When I was two years old, I was the kind of two-year-old that made her parents buy books with titles like Making Your Kids Mind Without Losing Yours and Have a New Kid by Friday. (Unfortunately for my folks, there wasn't a chapter about actually trading your child for a different, less obnoxious one). Meals were the worst, because apparently the only foods I would even consider not throwing directly from the plate onto the rug were lamb chops and chicken livers. Weird flex, toddler me.
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