When my daughter was 4 we lived in a warehouse which was next door to my dad’s house. My daughter would walk across the driveway to have breakfast with him.
One morning after he made the 4 year old her cream of wheat, being a very personable guy, he attempted to have a chat with her. She put down her spoon and looked at him.
“Pop Pop, I came for breakfast. NOT for conversation.”
And with that she picked up her spoon and went back to the cream of wheat.