He's a confidence man. He is all smiles and reassurance, eager to convince you that the choices you make are correct. He looks you right in the eyes with his big brown eyes, which shimmer with charisma.
And then he unleashes his most effective weapon - he gives you the nod. And you are putty in his tiny hands.
You might not be sure that you are correct in your decision. Should I give him my watch to play with? Should he be trusted with a pen and a notebook of blank paper? Will he act responsibly if I put an adult-size fork in his hand? Should I really let him climb up on the kitchen chairs?
But he nods. He smiles. He knows you're unsure, and he's leaning in now, pressing his advantage. "Mine?" he asks, coyly, as if he already knows the answer.
"Mine?" He looks up into your eyes.
And then - he gives you the nod.
Resistance is futile. The two-year-old has outmaneuvered you once again.
Lyin' Ryan's Fake Town Hall: Profile In Cowardice
45 minutes ago