I may get in trouble for this but I'm re-posting this from a blog I had on the today platform. I enjoyed the works I shared over there and will try to share some here.
Dear Puddin Pop,
Yes. I am the boss of you.
I know you were super tired tonight at bed time, and didn’t really mean what you said but, yes, I am the boss of you.
When you spoke those words, “You not the boss of me”, part of me wanted to laugh, part of me wanted to cry. I knew immediately that you had heard those words from your brother, who was probably saying them all day to his older, bossy friend, but I was still surprised. Part of me was sad that, at two, you would be so upset with me and want to push me away. Part of me was so proud that you were standing up for yourself, even if it was against me.
I love you more than anything and only want the best for you. It is my job to make sure you get everything you need…including sleep. My heart aches that you had to go to sleep so upset with me. I’m sorry for telling you that you would need to make your own breakfast in the morning since you think you are the boss of you (even though this didn’t seem to phase you at all). I will, of course, make your breakfast in the morning. I will also do my best to make sure that you are provided with the skills and knowledge to someday actually be the boss of you.
For now it will be my job. Not one I take lightly.