It Doesn't Have to Make Sense ...
My preschool-aged son was, shall we say, a wee bit emotional today. I don't know what it was, but he cried and whined through most of the afternoon.
I was out of the house for a good chunk of the day. Ben stayed home with the children, and by four in the afternoon my dear husband had reached his limit. I offered to take the boys out for a drive to give Ben a break.
I wrestled my preschooler into the van and tried to buckle his seat belt. He looked at me with sorrowful eyes and moaned, "I don't liiiike the word zip!"
I wasn't comprehending the problem. "What's wrong with zip?" I asked.
"It's a baaaaaaad word!" he wailed.
"Okay," I shrugged, and shut the van door.
I hope I successfully muffled my laughter. Who ever said three-year-old logic had to make sense?