What I Say:
“Come on, Olivia. It’s time for me to give you a shower.”
What She Hears:
“Come on, Olivia. It’s time for you to scream like a tortured raving lunatic while Mommy tries her best to wrestle you into the shower and attempts to rid you of all those stray Oreo crumbs in your left armpit, those pesky chunks of macaroni and cheese hiding in your hair and those streaks of black Sharpie marker you felt it necessary to decorate your legs with. ”
Without fail. Every f#*king time. Somebody make it stop.