Pokiness

My children and I go out to breakfast on occasion. We go to a local place where Henry orders his "usual": 1 pancake, 1 french toast, bacon, and OJ. We wolf it down, read The Gruffalo or work in our sticker book while I hork down cup after cup of coffee, then we leave, usually on our way to the playground down the street. Last week, on our way out, I life Henry into the car.

Mistake #1. "NO! I can do it."
Oh yes, of course.
So, he climbs down out of the car, turns around to get into the car, doodles a little with something on the floor, steps up, doodles a little with the door...
"Come on Henry, let's get to the playground." I remind him.
He keeps doodling around, then all of a sudden turns to me and says, "What you doing?"
What am I doing?? "Waiting for you little Poke, hustle hustle mister!"