Just heard in our kitchen:
"Sam, come here, let me wipe your face, sweetie." After he pounded down a chocolate yogurt and had it all around his mouth.
He runs in the opposite direction, launches himself onto our couch and proceeds to rub his face into the cushions.
"Sam, get your bum over here RIGHT NOW." (Spoken in a firm, slightly raised tone.) "One....Two............three."
And he's there, standing in front of me by three. I wipe his upturned face and he says, "You really good at your numbers Mom!"