Stick some cloves in him and glaze him with honey

My son, in that typical four-year-old boy kind of way, was bugging his sister. Despite being told to leave her alone and go get ready for bed, he persisted. So I picked him up and carried him to his room. And the tears started. Oh, the wailing! The gnashing of teeth! The injustice of it all! The horror! How could I be so, so cruel?! Sensing that he was working really hard to force the sobs out, I began to imitate him as I changed him into his pajamas. He tried not to laugh, but the giggles escaped anyway. The louder he "cried" (he didn't have any tears anymore), the more I contorted my face in response. "Go to bed, you big ham," I told him. "Silly Mommy!" he laughed. "I'm silly?!" I asked, "What do you mean I'm silly?" "I not a ham," he replied, "I a boy!"