Rose was on the potty, and wanted company, so I was sitting on the bathtub holding David. He was getting hungry, so you have to imagine this conversation interrupted by occasional squawks. Also, we couldn't see each other; the open bathroom door was between us.

R: Sometimes I don't want to listen to your words.
D: Hmm, like when?
R: Like when you ask me what I want for breakfast or dinner.
D: Sometimes we all feel that way, but you need to listen to us.
R: When I have wax in my ears, I clean it out with those things.
D: The q-tips? The doctor said you shouldn't use those.
R: Well, I do.

None of this was said with any bad attitude, all very calm. I feel like I missed an opportunity. Like a door to her mind opened to me, and I didn't know what to do.

Rose often gets a crazy making blank look on her face; she goes completely non-responsive. A typical morning conversation between John and Rose:

Rose, what do you want for breakfast? Do you want a waffle or muffin? You need to answer me when I talk to you. Hey, wax-in-your-ears girl.

I love that she was taking the wax in the ears literally. I'm picking my battles. I'll either remove the q-tips or let her use them, but we aren't going to fight about it.
But here she was broaching the much more serious topic of I don't know what. Resistance? Parent/child responsibilities? I felt like we were talking about something really big, and I couldn't capitalize on it.