While riding in the car this evening...
Lucy: "OW, MY SHIRT IS UP HIGH! IT'S STUCK! OW!"
Me, reaching to fix it: "Okay, let me fix it."
Lucy: "DON'T TOUCH ME. NO, OFF!" Frantically brushes off my mere touch.
Me: "Babe, I was just fixing your shirt. I was helping you. It's not nice to yell."
Lucy: "No, Mama, it's not nice to touch people!"
Me, patting Jason nicely on his arm: "Yes, it is, it's nice to touch, see?"
Lucy: "No, Mom. It's not nice to touch me when I don't want you to."
Me: "Well, that is true."
Me, in my own head: "It's true...except you are not even three years old and although you have a burgeoning sense of personal space, you don't get to have any personal space from me. Your mother. Just like I didn't get to have any from you during the 9 months you occupied my womb and the 12 months you ate food from my body pretty much whenever you wanted. But okay, if you insist on being all WELL-ADJUSTED and HAVING A SEPARATE IDENTITY FROM ME, then fine."