— Really?
— Yeah. Well, we're all somebody's children.
A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.
— ls it my baby?
— Well for now it's mine. If you want a share of it, you'll better wake up!
Well, they [kids] can be tenacious when they want something.
Isn't a kid alive who doesn't dream about rewarding her folks, or punishing them.
I love my sons too much to mollycoddle them.