Dictatorship.

Peanut: Want cranberries!
Me: You have a dish of cranberries right over there on the coffee table, see?
Peanut: (wailing): Nooo! You don't LIKE those cranberries! Want DIFFERENT cranberries! Nooooo!

This kind of scene is repeated several times at my house over the course of a day. Peanut will be 2 on Saturday. I usually just give her what she's asking for if it isn't a big deal like a dish of different cranberries. There are several reasons for this. I love her very much and I want her to be happy. And if it is important to her and not so important to me, I don't mind compromising. Goodness knows that there's plenty of stuff she doesn't get to choose (wearing a coat is the biggest right now) so I may as well say yes when I can. But I see why people say toddlers can be dictators, though. Yikes.

Thankfully, I'm not afraid that Peanut will have me beheaded or quartered if I don't give her the cranberries, like the dictator in The Autumn of the Patriarch might. (How's THAT for a segue, ha!) This book was tough to read. Difficult subject matter for me, very difficult stream of consciousness writing style, and very depressing book. There were almost no paragraphs. Just these really long musing, meandering sentences. I found it harder to read than Faulkner.

Anyway, glad it's over, and I better post this before my baby dictator spots my iPad...