Logic

This morning, I begged Zoe to get dressed. "C'mon, Zo, we have to leave to go Christmas shopping. Please get dressed."

She resisted. She's in a high maintenance period, wanting help with everything or us to just outright do it for her.

I threatened, pleaded, cajoled. I played the Santa card. Nothing was working. Finally, I resorted to that well-known tactic I think every single parent has employed over the millennia: shame.

"You used to be able to dress yourself. You were such a big girl! What happened?"

"I growed down."

Touche.