“I think I broke my brain,” Azul said looking down, rubbing his six year-old head with his little hand.

“Oh my love, maybe you should stop playing on the phone,” is what I said. What I meant was “get off my phone.” Much like old men say, “get off my lawn,” just not as old or angry.

In a defensive move he replied, “You say the phone is bad for my brain and you’re on it all the time!”

“I’ve done enough harm to my brain, I think I’ll be okay.” You are witnessing my brilliant parenting skills at work right there in that response. Eek!

So, he asked, “Why is it bad for my brain?” Oh, the fight is on!

“I’ll tell you what, when you finish Grad School, you can play on the phone all you want,” I answered.

Azul loves to bargain and make deals, so intrigued he asked, “How many schools is that?”

Holding up my hand and raising a finger for each one, “Well, you’re in Elementary School now, then there is Middle School, High School, Undergraduate School in College and Grad School in College. That’s five.”

“Noooooo! That’s too many. I was thinking when I was eight or nine,” he said, throwing his right-hook in the negotiations.

I laughed and gave in to the winner. “Okay, we’ll talk about it when you’re eight or nine.”