Mrs. Yoy: Puzzlemaster
A weird thing happened.
We completed the five puzzles. And when I say "we" I mean me. For whatever reason, Big E likes to direct activities, not actually participate in them. He asked me to do them again. I obliged, as he was sitting quietly and that rarely happens anymore.
By round three I had hit my Cars puzzle limit. I explained to him that I didn't want to play with the book anymore, but he was welcome to do the puzzles on his own.
This was not a satisfactory explanation.
He started shouting: DO MORE PUZZLES! DO MORE PUZZLES! DO IT! DO IT!
To be honest, he kind of scared me. Where did he learn to channel John McEnroe?
So I did what any mother would do. I did the dang puzzles!
While I'm puzzling away he keeps sternly reminding me to do the puzzles. Over and over again.
This is what it must be like to be a child laborer in a Nike sweatshop. My shaking hands are fumbling to put together the picture of Lightning McQueen.
He ran in the other room to grab his water and I took this as my opportunity to escape my puzzling destiny.
I hid the book. He returned and I played dumb, which is not hard for me to do at all.
Mrs. Yoy 2, Big E 0 (not like I'm keeping score or anything...)