The day was winding down, and 4/5ths of our household was upstairs getting ready for bed. Jane, who is developing a bit of a stubborn streak, was downstairs playing. I stood at the top of the stairs trying to coax her up.
Me: Janey, time for PJs.
Jane: (muted because she's on the other side of the house) No.
Me: Come on, Janer. It's PJ time.
Jane: No. Playing.
Me: Play time is over, Sweety. Come on up.
Jane: No want to, Daddy. No like PJs.
(Here's where I briefly divert to remind you of Jane's fear which has recently evolved about ghosts. At least once a day, she runs into the room we're in and yells, "Ghost! Ghost!" )
Me: (sounding frustrated and tired) Jane, I'm not asking you again. Please come upstairs and get your PJs on.
Jane: No, Daddy. No, Daddy! NO, DADDY!
(a brief pause)
(Insert here the pitter-patter sound of terrified feed on hardwood, followed by hugging and reassurance)