I picked up Ivy from my mom's house yesterday and was driving her home for nap. My mom sent a goodie box with us filled with stuff that Ivy loves.
Me: Ivy, your Mema is so nice to you. Look at all of these treats.
Ivy: Yeah, but sometimes she is bad to me.
Me: She is? When is she bad to you?
Ivy: When I'm bossy and when I talk back.
I guess Ivy's idea of being treated badly just involves lying in the bed of her own makings.