but... i still like you

Every time the three year old comes around I make her a babycino (or a chino) as she calls it. She makes sure I put a 'sweetheart' of chocolate powder on top.

It sounds like I'm a nice, caring aunty but really I'm just getting rid of the extra milk that I steamed up for my own coffee.

She always asks for a spoon, or a 'poon' as she calls it. She's three years old, hardly time to be calling in the speech therapists. I always say no. Tell her drink it like a big girl. She whinges to some other adult who gives in to her every whim and gets her a spoon from the cutlery drawer.

And when given a 'poon' to drink her chino, she inevitably makes a big mess. Every single time, without fail.

The last time she made a mess, her mum scolded her. And what did she come back with?

"But... I still like you."

You see, she must have cracked the sads the last time she was told off by an adult who told her that they still like her, but she can't keep being naughty.

She thought it would work in the reverse, it might get her out of trouble if she said that when she got told off.

The truth of the matter is that she will always make a mess. She will always get told off until she learns and her Aunty Jess will always make her chinos.

And yes, I will still like her. And she will still like me. And nothing will really change that

And that's life, right?

We adults are so much like children but as our language becomes more sophisticated we begin to shadow what we really mean. Nothing changes to the way we treat each other but our words.