Toast

Early morning. Alice sits on a stool in the kitchen.

Me: You want toast?

Alice: Yes.

I drop a slice of bread into the toaster. A minute later, it pops up. I grab it.

Me: What would you like on your toast?

She is looking around the room, humming to herself.

Me: Aliiiiice. What would you like on your toast?

Alice: Ummmm. Butter. And jam.

Me: Raspberry, apricot, or strawberry?

Alice: Strawberry.

I butter her toast. I scoop a spoonful of strawberry jam from the jar and plop it on top.

Alice: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I SAID JUST BUTTER!

Me: You didn't, actually. But OK.

I scrape as much of the jam from the toast as I can.

Me: Better?

Alice: Better.

I place the plate in front of her. She isn't looking. She is humming. She is chatting with the dog.

She looks back to her toast.

Alice: DAD! I said butter aaaaand strawberry jam! Can't you listen?

I stare at her.

Alice: And, not toasted. Just bread.