We’re unpacking the garage when Brinley asks Sarah, “Mom, can we set up some ant traps now?“
“Um, not right now, Brin.”
Brin, sadly: “That means later. Later means tomorrow. Tomorrow means next week.”
“I’m not even talking, and I’m talking zero words!” says Brin, talking.
Brinley struts out of the house in nothing but undies and shoes.
“I’m wearing my naked dress!”
I pick some cereal from a high shelf as requested by Brin.
“Thanks, Dad! You’re the heaviest one ever.”
Brinley asks Mommy, “Was packing boring?”
Sarah responds, “Well, it wasn’t my favorite. Did you like packing?”
“No!” says Brin. “It was like juggling a watermelon and putting it in your mouth.”
Brinley thinks of jobs for our family. “Mommy can be a helper, Micah can be a messer, Dad you can be a weed cutter, and I can be a princess.”
Speaking of the villain in a movie that she really likes, Brinley says, “Snatcher is a bottom-fit.”
“Hey Brin, what’s a bottom-fit?”
“It’s a bottom. That fits.”
Looking out at the stormy weather, four-year-old Brinley says that it’s raining “full-throttle”.
“Bye!” shouts Brinley, leaning out the door as I get into the car to run some errands. “Take care of yourself!”
Then quietly, and with a sheepish grin, not knowing if it’s ok or not:
“…jerk.”
Brin, on spinning in her new swing: “My tummy sure gets silly when I spin a lot. I burped a little.”