Here's how it goes at my house.
"Mommy, I want juice."
No, Son, we don't have any juice. We're going to the store this morning.
"I want juice. I go to fridge. I get it myself."
We don't have juice. Please stay out of the refrigerator, I'll be downstairs in just a minute.
(I am still in bed, still tired, a little out of it.)
Little man heads downstairs, despite my requests that he stay with me for a minute. On the way, he says a few choice phrases. "Stop it!" "I get juice myself!"
I finally make it downstairs (2 long minutes later).
My Little Man meets me around the corner as I come down the stairs, a remorseful look on his face. A demolished stick of butter in his hands.
That is NOT juice! I tell him.
"Here go, Mom."
Giving us his commands.