(V points to the floor at the fork she just dropped.)
V: “Meow”
M: “What are you asking for, V?”
V: “Meow”
M: “‘Meow’ doesn’t mean ‘please pick up my spoon.’”
V: “No it’s not a spoon. It’s a fork.”
M: “Oh sorry. I guess something was lost in translation.”
S: “Cats don’t use spoons or forks so the distinction is lost on them.”
V: “May I have my fork please?”
“That dog woofs a lot. Every night and every day when I go out that dog is woofing. He’s nice but he’s a little woofy.”
V: “I peed in my green dress. That’s why I changed.”
M: “You didn’t pee in your green dress; you spilled oatmeal on it.”
V: “No but—oatmeal is kind of like pee.”
S: “V, you really should go potty so you don’t have an accident.”
V: “In a second, OK?”
We’re raising a two-and-a-half-year-old teenager.
(Holding her Spider-Man doll) “Spider-Man has baby bad guys in his tummy.”
That’s what we get for letting her watch me play Spider-Man while also expecting her baby brother.