My three year old would do anything for a sucker.

She wakes up in the morning asking for a sucker.

She rolls over in her sleep groaning about Thomas-The-Sucker-Train and Dora The Sucker Explorer.

When she’s been sickeningly sweet, she leans towards the closet where we once (two years ago) had suckers in the hopes I will default to the sucker bin in an offering of kindness in exchange for her angelic behaviour.

If I ask her what she wants for lunch after her go-to response of “bird poop” she will always ask for a sucker.

She requests we drive in Daddy’s vehicle rather than mine because he is the more likely parent to have a sucker in his possession and/or use it as a bribe to keep her quiet if his phone rings while in the car.

He is also the parent less likely to realize his entire back seat, console, all windows and rear controls will be sticky for the next year if he goes the way of the sucker.

When I say, “Goodnight Chloe, I love you.” She’ll often reply, “I love you most.” And then etch the words “Can I have a sucker?” into her bed frame.

She would eat a sucker she found mashed into the ground by someone’s muddy boots if I wasn’t quick enough to snag it out of her hand.

If a sucker got stuck in her hair, she would consider it a lengthening agent (both for the hair and the shelf-life of the sucker), a win-win.

Last night, she snuggled in beside me half asleep on the couch. Her teeth had been brushed, she had been bathed, read to and was gearing up for a good night’s sleep.

Grandpa who is visiting was having a conversation with Greg and just as Chloe’s eyes began to soften and close he said, “Some sucker might do it.”

Chloe shot up: SUCKER!!! CAN I HAVE A SUCKER?!!!!!! I WANT A SUCKER! What sucker? Now sobbing.

There’s nothing worse than your family having a sucker party and you’re the only sucker not invited.