I can do anything I want to, baby, I ain't lost.

Please, please remind me not to read Dooce while I'm in public on my second glass of wine. It was simply her letter of the month to Leta, but holy shit I had to die:

Recently we stopped giving you any treats whatsoever, not to punish you necessarily, but because I was tired of all the ridiculous negotiating over the number of bites of a meal you had to eat before dessert. So I took away dessert. Done. And it's been a lot easier than I thought it would be, except you're now a lot hungrier for normal food and are always wandering around going, "I want something in my mouth." It's not, "I'm hungry," or "I would like something to eat," it's "PUT SOMETHING IN MY MOUTH." It's funny only because this is not a phrase that any adult would say out loud in mixed company.

And now everyone is STARING AT ME. There are tears rolling down my cheeks (you may need both wine and the whole post, who knows), and I'm sure my awful attempts to hide my guffaws are simply lost altogether.