As endearing as I forgot not to is, I can’t is the POLAR opposite.
I can’t is applied in many situations.
When I’m tired.
When I’m grumpy.
When I just can’t be bothered.
When I’m all of the above.
Executed in a particularly whingeing tone it is torture to a mumma’s ears. Can’t run, can’t hide, noise cancelling headphones wouldn’t keep it away torture.
And oh so annoying. Because she can. She absolutely positively can. But she just doesn’t want to. Combined with but but but mumma I need to tell you something interrupting my umpteenth request that she actually do whatever it was I asked her to do in the first place, followed quickly by I need your help. Which she also does not.
Grant me the serenity to make it to wine o’clock. Oh, that’s right, I’m cleansing. There is no wine o’clock. Oi vey.