Cheryl rolled her eyes as little Robbie sat in front of the blank television. Robbie danced in anticipation and pointed at the screen expectantly. “Come on, Robbie. You’ve seen the same show twenty-seven times! You can’t be serious,” Cheryl said.
“Again,” Robbie said louder than before.
“No,” Cheryl said sternly, “it’s time for reading.” She summoned her mother’s voice and tapped her foot again. The idea of having children became an unpleasantly. She could feel the muscles on her face falter. Children could sense that, but for Robbie it wouldn’t matter. He stayed fixed on the television demanding more.
“Again,” Robbie said more courageously.