Wyatt:
MAMA! MAMA!

Me:
Dude, chill out. It's 5 a.m.

Wyatt:
You're not Mama.

Me:
She's right there, holding your brother.

Boone:
Yeah, bro. Wait your turn.

Wyatt:
He's had plenty of time.

Me:
Boone's sick. Your mom's comforting him.

Wyatt:
I want Mama now!

Boone:
I may be here for a while.

Wyatt:
Then, I'll just scream until you're done.

Me:
What's your problem with me?

Wyatt:
How long do you have?

Me:
Look, pal. It's way too early for this. You're brother's got a fever. He's having trouble sleeping—

Boone:
It's true. Mama's helping.

Me:
So, either let me comfort you or go back to sleep.

Wyatt:
Okay. I know how you can help.

Me:
Great. How?

Wyatt:
Pick me up and put me in Mama's arms.

Me:
There's no room.

Boone:
Sure there is. I can scoot over.

Me:
Fine... Here you go. You're both in Mama's lap. Enjoy. I'm going back to bed.

Wyatt:
Wait. You need to make us bottles.

Boone:
Yeah, dude. Bottles.

Wyatt:
Bottles.

Boone:
Bottles.

Me:
Fine! I'll make bottles!

Wyatt:
Dude, chill out.