Ana is sitting in her highchair enjoying some Trader Joe’s veggie chips while I busily prepare her breakfast. She has managed to eat all the larger chips, but her highchair is still covered with a smattering of tiny or partially broken pieces. She looks up at me with her pleading doe eyes and says ever so politely, “More chips please.”

I look at her tray, then back up at her and say, “Thank you for asking correctly, but you still have chips. Can you eat the ones you have first?”

She pauses. Maintains eye contact and repeats, “More. Chips. Please.” This time breaking it down for me, just in case I didn’t understand what it was she wanted.

I breathe slowly. “Sorry, but your tray has to be empty before you get any more.” And with that I turn my back to finish preparing breakfast. Indicating that this conversation is clearly not to be debated.

As I finish cooking I walk over to Ana, this time her tray is amazingly clean…and the dogs are frantically scrambling to pick up the pieces of chips she swept to the floor. She practically bats her eyelashes at me and sings, “More chips please.”