My small little baby son keeps saying that when he's cross. So whatever you're offering, he doesn't want any, and whatever you think, he severely disagrees. Furthermore, he doesn't have to use the loo. Graciefabulous had Scarlet Fever last week. I hadn't heard of anyone coming down with it since I had it in first grade, and prior to that, Helen Keller. Poor thing, but the doctor told her she could do whatever she wanted while she was home sick. So after four days of being deathly ill and sleeping, she emptied the contents of her furniture in the middle of the night and rearranged it while everyone else was sleeping. I woke to find her in a big pile of knee socks, sunsuits and sheets of construction paper each with the letter "G" written on it. Later that day, she wrote all over the basement walls with a purple sharpie. It don't wash off. I spent my weekend repainting, and while left semi-unattented, dut-duh-duh-DAH! She cut her hair. The hair that finally grew in after two years of total baldness, and another year of a fuzzy hairlike substance that was finally ponytail length. When she came to show me, I thought her hair was falling out from the fever. When I had Scarlet Fever, my hair fell out in chunks. She just has a little peeling on her toes. It fascinates her. So does her new "boys regular" wedge haircut. I must say. It's even grown on me. That kid. My right eye twitches.