You: "I said to please stop kicking the back of my seat."

The Kid: "I did stop."

You: "But then you started again."

The Kid: "But I did stop."

You: "Yes, that's right. You did stop. But now you are kicking my seat once again, and I would like you to stop."

The Kid: "Can I just do four more kicks?"

You: "No, you can't do four more kicks. I want you to stop it now."

The Kid (still kicking): "What about six more kicks?"

You: "Am I going to have to pull this car over and make you stop kicking my seat?"

The Kid: "I'm not kicking you. My foot is doing it, and my foot doesn't have ears so he doesn't know you want him to stop."

You: You'd better tell your foot right this minute, or I'm going to tell your foot myself! And it won't be pretty!"

The Kid: "Fine! But it is a bad foot, so it probably won't listen."

You (beginning to feel the first stages of kidney failure): "I know how to make a foot listen. If I have to pull over and talk to that foot myself, then it will understand why it shouldn't kick people's seats anymore!"

Copyright 2006 Sandi Kahn Shelton

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