Who's in charge here

"Can I have milk," the little voice from the kitchen rang out. I was looking directly at my daughter, but in the middle of davening this morning, there was nothing I could do for her.

"Can I have milk, Daddy,' her voice rang out again, a little louder, slightly more annoyed that it was taking so long to get milk.

Once again, I ignored her. While I would normally walk over and pour her some milk, we were on a new schedule this morning, and I didn't have the time to walk over and pour her some milk.

"Are you bentching," she asked next, "or davening."

I shook my head yes when she asked if I was davening, hoping the conversation would end.

"Bentching," she said again.

No, I shook my head.

"Davening," she repeated.

Yes, I shook my head.

"Bentching," she asked once again.

No, I shook my head.

A mischevious smile lit up her face.

"Davening," she asked, waiting for me to ashake my head.

Once again, I shook my head yes, realizing as she began to laugh that she was trying to control me. "Bentching," she asked, looking expectantly for me to shake my head no.

I ignored her.

"Davening," her voice rang out again.

Once again, I ignored her.

"Bentching," she demanded, irritation creeping into her voice.

This time, I shook my head no.

"Davening," she said, hopeful for a nod.

"Not anymore," I said, as I took off my T'fillin and folded my Talis.