Here's an all-too-typical story, played out in many forms. You parents will recognize it.
I must preface by saying that -- really, honestly -- we don't eat a lot of fast food. Unless you consider Chipotle to be fast food, and then ... the average goes up a little. But of the McDonald's variety, it's rare. Last night was one of those "if Mommy gets to go to Curves, then Daddy has to get groceries with Lizzy, and by the time the twain shall meet, it's going to be 8:20" sorts of evenings. Sacrifices! So Lizzy was plenty ready for feed by then. We knew that making anything at home would put us into her bedtime, so we just swung through the Mickey D's drive thru.
Matt asked Lizzy what sort of Happy Meal she wanted. "A cheeseburger!" she asserted. Okay. Matt, however, is (sometimes) a wise man. He's certainly a wise daddy. He knew better than to believe her. He ordered her one Happy Meal with cheeseburger, and one four-piece Chicken McNugget from the dollar menu.
When she got her Happy Meal, after the disappointment of not finding the Lightning McQueen car toy (of the two we now possess, one was voiced by Cheech, and the other is a VW van called 'Filmore' that represented the hippie drug culture -- hmmmm), she demanded the chicken nuggets. "I want chicken nuggets!" she wailed. Matt knowingly flipped the container of nuggets at her. "I want FOUR chicken nuggets!!" she demanded. "What? How many are in there?" Matt asked. "Only THREEEEEE!" she shrieked. Oops. Mommy ate one.
The crisis continued until she had some food in her tummy. After that, all was well. She was far more interested in mini dill pickles from the fridge (we did wait to eat until after we got home, so give us that, at least) than her food, anyway.
How many nuggets did she end up eating? TWO.