Brinley lost her first tooth an hour ago. Excited, she’s trying to talk through the ramifications with Micah.
“Micah, do you know what’s coming for me tonight?”
“Da toof fayee?”
“It starts with the letter M.”
“M… for Micah!”
“Nope, money!”
“See you again, crocodile,” says Micah.
He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of that saying yet.
“Teenagers that don’t babysit are no fun.” says Brinley. “They have no idea what they’re headed for.”
Micah wants to leave the dinner table. Sarah prompts him to say “May I be excused?”
Micah takes a beat and says, “I be a goose?”
Brinley on putting up some solid numbers:
“If you go two or three times in one day, then you’re the star champion of poop.”
After beating Daddy at checkers, Brinley smugly says, “I’m the wisest of the wisers.”
“You’re going to be very uncomfortable,” Brin alerts me while we’re wrestling. She takes a flying leap.
A groan escapes me as her knees plunge into my stomach, her face a picture of triumph as she yells, “Told ya!”
Micah lifts his forkful of Mac and Cheese up to his nose, takes three brisk sniffs, says, “Ah, deewicious!” and shovels the whole thing into his mouth.
It’s Christmas Eve. Thinking about Santa watching you be naughty or nice, Brin exits the bath and says, “Santa can see everything… even our butts. But that’s ok. Even God can see all of our butts.”
Brinley on Christmas Eve: “Let’s get ready for Santa. It’s Christmas, yo!”