S: “I called it [lasagna] ‘basanya’ too when I was her age.”

V: “I call it ‘soup pizza!’”

We’ve been making plans to go back to the US for the kids’ preschool years at least, to get them in English preschools and spend some time closer to the other side of the family. The recurring news of school shootings like yesterday’s is one of the main things that gives us pause.

I can try to reassure myself that millions of kids go to American schools every day without getting shot—but the fact that I have to is not OK.

V: “Are you gonna take your purse?”

S: “I’m gonna take my black computer bag.”

V: “That’s definitely your purse.”

V, tucking herself into a pile of duvets and blankets under the Christmas tree: “This is where I sleep now.”

“We’re waiting outside the store if you can’t keep your mouth off the Christmas decorations.”

S: “Put the dinosaurs back in the bin.”

V: “This is not a dinosaur.”

S: (Sigh) “OK, put the dinosaurs and the pterosaur back in the bin.”

“Mommy, I just can’t wait for Daddy time when you go to your meeting!”

V: “This helicopter doesn’t fly.”

S: “Why doesn’t it fly?”

V: “Because it’s a toy.”

S: “You got me there.”

S: “Do I need to start taking things away?”

V: “I want you to take something away.”

S: “OK, let’s start with your hammock.”

V: (As I’m taking down the hammock) “Next time start with something else. Next time you should start with a toy.”

S: “Next time, think about it before saying you want me to take something away.”

V: “Next time I’ll tell you to take away my doll house, and then my hot dog truck…and then the last thing will be my hammock.”

S: “That’s not how this works.”

M: “How much do you love your little brother?”

V: “I love him as fast as a velociraptor runs!”