"No," I said. "Two cookies are enough."
"I'm just going to see if there are more," he continued.
"You may not have another cookie. There are more, but you have had enough," I said, mustering my authoritative motherly tone.
"If there are more, I just want to see them, I won't take one," he said and hopped off his chair.
Little Dog perked up. "I'm just going to see if there are more," he said, paused and continued, "If there are more, I'm going to eat them."
At lease he's honest.
Today the saga of the cookies continued. This afternoon the boys and I had a little cookie snack. There were four cookies left, one for each family member. I gave one to each boy, took one for myself and left one on the tray for Mr. Dog to enjoy later since he was occupied with work on the house. After Little Dog ate his cookie he went back over to the tray. He saw one more cookie and reached for it. "That's for papa," I reminded.
"Why do we have more for papa?" he asked.
"Because he likes cookies and we love him."
"I want the cookie. I hate him. I hate papa," he said.
"No you don't. I know you want the cookie, but you love papa too. It's not nice to say you hate him."
"But I want it. Maybe we can just eat it," he suggested.
I tried another approach, thinking if he could reverse the situation he'd understand, I began,"Little Dog, how would you feel if we'd saved a cookie for you, and papa knew we were saving it but he decided to eat it anyhow."
His face changed, his expression filled with disgust as he considered his papa eating the cookie we'd saved for Little Dog. "I hate him," he said again. This time with feeling.
For the record, we managed to save the cookie for Mr. Dog. Oh, and despite his best efforts to convince me otherwise, Little Dog does love his papa.