So we usually try to watch each triple crown race and the kids always divide up the horses to see which one wins. Caroline got really into it this year and kept asking which horses were hers and what place they came in. Fast forward to the presidential election, which Carla and I apparently referred to as a race. We were discussing it during breakfast the morning after, and Caroline chimed in, "Is Barack Obama my horse?"
I was explaining to her that I'm a man and she's a girl and she said, "No, you're a boy and I'm a girl. You don't have a hat on. That means you're not a man."
Caroline: I love pears. Pears are my favorite apples.
Caroline, explaining that Uncle Kyle and Aunt Keely's dog sniffs everything: Murphy smurfed a lot of stuff.
Caroline, grabbing my bare chest and apparently informing me that I need to work pecks a little more: Your pwivates are wiggwy. (So please, if Caroline tells you that her daddy's privates are wiggly, know that she's just talking about my moobs.)
And one from Anderson yesterday: Is today the twenty-oneth?