From the mouth of the little boy who, when asked what he wants to be when he grows up, says: "Well, I want to be a daddy aaaand ... have 12 kids aaaand, oh, I also want to be president..." comes the following this morning at breakfast in response to his sister's getting too close for his comfort with her yogurt (he DEEEspises yogurt):
"PLEASE!! Portia!! You must respect your elders!" To me, then, he turns: "I am Portia's elder, and she has to respect my dislike of yogurt!"
Not that I would wish the vagaries of president-hood upon anyone, but he's in line.
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