Baxter at breakfast: “Mom, my brain says, ‘Baxter, Baxter! Drink this milk because it’s good for you.'”

Baxter, pouty: “Mama, nothing is the way I want it to be.”

Me: “Baxter, it’s going to be really hot today so I’d like you to wear a tank top.”
Baxter: “I don’t want to wear a tank top, so I won’t wear a shirt at all!”