It’s February, and out of the blue Brinley gasps and says, “What if Santa is Jesus?!”
We’re driving on our way to a stock show and rodeo. “Rodeos are great, I think!” Brinley says excitedly. “It’s kind of like jury duty.”
Brin is talking about going to the doctor but struggles to find the right word. “I’m excited to go to the… health dentist.”
Sarah to the kids on Christmas morning, “No more cotton candy until you have your cinnamon rolls!”
We’re watching Home Alone for the first time. Brin is just aghast at the audacity of the villains doing their various crimes. She says, “ You know what I would do? I would sit on their faces… and toot on them!”
We drive past an empty lot where prairie dogs have taken over. Brinley exclaims, “Ooh! …ground… hogs. Wait, what are they called?”
“Prairie dogs.”
“Prairie dogs are the worst word because people can always forget the name.”
Brinley: They should separate pee and poop.
Me: Um… what?
Brinley: Pee and poop sound too similar. They should call pee… pellevity.
Brinley, terrified of bees, comes across a dead bee on the sidewalk.
“Argh! A bee!”
“Don’t worry,” says Sarah, “It’s already dead.”
“Well, step on it and make it more dead.”
Tonight I shave while the kids are in the bath. Brin has fun likening me to Santa but then hits me with, “You don’t look jolly to me; you’re shaving off all of your love. Your beard.”
Brin awkwardly gets in the bath tonight and makes a bit of a splash. To calm any fears I might have she says, “Don’t be alert, I tried to do that.”