A few minutes ago, my one year old handed me our television remote. I told her “No ma’m. First you and sissy clean up all of these toys, and then we can watch some TV.”
Beans sets down the remote and appraises the huge disastrous mess of everything my children own. She picks up Mister Potato Head’s arm (and only his arm), places it into a laundry basket, and then once again presents me with the remote.
I shall describe her as “direlict”. It sounds classier than “lazy”.