Ingrid: Mama, I’m cold.
Me: Hmm, maybe you should put on a sweatshirt.
Ingrid: No, No.
Me: (Thinking. Here we go again with the cold catch-22.)
Ingrid: My mouth is cold.
Me: Your mouth? (mining my memory for diseases that might have this symptom)
Ingrid: On the inside.
Me: On the inside? (Could she be having a stroke?)
Ingrid: Like I need some hot chocolate.