4-year-old: “Mommy, can I have a cookie pwease?”
Me: “In a minute, honey.”
4-year-old: “Pweeeeeeeeeeease? I’w wet (I’ll let) you watch TV before I go to bed!”
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4-year-old: “Mommy? Why did we name him that? (Referring to the baby). Why can’t we name him Shane? Awex? Hambugga?”
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9-year-old son: “You’re not making sense. Don’t talk if you’re not going to make sense!”
4-year-old: “Yes I am!”
8-year-old daughter: “I never make sense, and I talk all the time!”
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4-year-old: “Mommy, if I ate too many bananas, I would become a banana, and you might eat me because I’m tasty.”
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4-year-old: “I want to hold the baby.”
(I hand him the baby, who just ate, and is gassy, and his arms are flailing, he’s kicking, etc)
4-year-old: “Wook(look) mommy! I fink(think) he wants to evolve wike(like) a Pokemon.”
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4-year-old: (about the baby) “He’s kinda wike (like) a human, ‘cept he is a human, with eyes, nose and pajamas!”
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(I try to take the baby from the 4-year-old, who’s holding him)
4-year-old: “Mommy, you have to ask nicewy.”
me: “Baby, he’s upset, he needs to burp..”
4-year-old: “No, nicewy!”
me: “May I have the baby, please?”
4-year-old: “Sure!”
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4-year-old: (while watching the baby smiling) “Mommy? I was dat small.. how did I get so big?”
me: “You just grew, baby…” (didn’t let me finish)
4-year-old: “Oh! So I can snap and buckle mysewf (myself), so dat means I’m five!”
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My 8-year-old daughter turns to me and asks when lunch is. I say “in a little while, we’re having hot dogs and mac and cheese.”
She says “Mom, who’s cooking it (lunch)?”
“I am,” I respond, “why do you ask?”
“Because daddy can’t, he’s fired.”
“Fired?” I giggle and ask. “What?!”
“Yeah, remember? He broke your eggs at breakfast, so grandma said he’s fired.”