Wearing Down

My kids, the twins especially, are on a quest to acquire something. Of course, that something is something specific, and our conversations usually go like this:

Kid 1: Mom, can we get a kitten?
Me: A kitten? Are you kidding? I said no more cats.
Kid 2: Not a cat. A kitten.
Me: Same thing.
Kid 1: Well, how about a puppy?
Me: I'm all for another dog, but I'd like to get one that's already house-trained.
Kid 2: How about a puppy that's house-trained?
Me: That might be difficult to find, you know.
Kid 1: All right...another baby?
Kid 2: Two babies?
Me: No, and no. I'm done.
Kid 1: How do you know you're done?
Kid 2: We'll help with the babies!
Me: No, it's not happening. And isn't it time for bed?
Kid 1: Okay. I love you, Mommy.
Kid 2: I love you, Mommy.
Me: I love you both, very much.
Kids 1 and 2: What about an iPhone?

They leave the room with a wicked gleam in their eyes and a spring in their steps. They're smart and cunning, all right. Trying to wear me down, thinking that if they start with the items I completely don't want to give in to, that the last one, the most innocuous in their minds, might actually come to fruition.

Except it won't. Because at least for now, I'm still stronger than they are. For now.