This morning I asked Leila what kind of cereal she wanted. "Oatmeal," was her reply. "You want it cold?" "yes." So I fixed her a bowl of cold oatmeal like her Grandfather eats it.
When she finally sat down and took a bite, after way too long fussing with her hair, I heard, in a very snarky voice, "I said oatmeal, not this horrible thing." You can imagine the accompanying face.
Since we are working on speaking with respect, this was a bad start to the day. It turns out she meant granola, which we are out of. I explained that that was called "granola." "Well, I call it oatmeal." "Well, I speak English," was my snarky reply.
So she had a granola bar.