The time I said, “Hey buddy,” to my wife, and my daughter responded, “She is NOT a buddy.”
The time on vacation when she said, “We are going to dinner AGAIN? We are going to ANOTHER restaurant?”
The time she was whimpering and her mom asked her if she was okay and she said, “Yes, I okay. I just freaking out.”
The time she asked me what I was doing, and I said I was stretching my muscles, and she responded, “You don’t have any muscles. I have BIG muscles. YOU have elbows.”
The time she said, “Can I ask you a question? Do you want to be good or do you want to be what the heck?”
The time she named her new doll Baby Annie the Bear Hunter, and I realized I would never name anything that perfectly at my marketing job. (See also: the time she made me a pretend cocktail called “Crash Fart.”)
The time I told her, “I love you so much,” and she said, “Not me,” and I went, “Oh?” and she responded, “I love my mom.”
The time she handed me a rock and said, “No, eat it!”
The time she pointed to her nipples and said, “Soon these are going to grow big!”
The time she announced, “Mommy, you’re so brave,” and her mom responded, “I’m brave?” and my three-year-old concluded, “Yes, you have a grown-up job.”
The time she said, “I don’t eat vegetables because I want to stay three.”
The time she asked me, “THAT is how you wipe your butt?”
The time she described a new friend at school like so: “His name is Boing. With a red shirt on, with feet. AND a body. Like it looks like a skeleton, but it’s a friend.”