Recent bits of conversation:
In the car after BJ's total meltdown at the end of our Monterey Bay Aquarium trip yesterday (too tired, too overstimulated, too much dealing with the crowds) -- BB has been almost silent the entire walk back to the car, while BJ has thrown a Royal Hissy Fit.
BB (to BJ, who has settled a bit but is still sniffling): "Okay, here's what you do. You don't cry, OK? It's a little trick! You don't cry!"
BJ: continues sniffling
BB (to me, after bathtime, apropos of nothing): "You are a Mama Potato!"
me: "I am?"
BJ (to me and S): "Does Cupid shoot arrows?"
me: "Yes -- and it's supposed to make people fall in love."
BJ (after a thoughtful pause): "Does it hurt?"
me, laughing: "OK, Dr. Love, you field this one."
S, laughing: "Sometimes!"
BB (at the Kaiser lab on Saturday, waiting in line to get her blood drawn -- she may or may not have eaten some paint that she chipped off the windowsill; said paint may or may not contain lead, one of the many "joys" of living in a house built in 1926) "I don't waaaaaant to go to the doctor! I promise promise I won't eat paint Ever Again! Never Never!"
(This received some puzzled looks from the other folks in line.)
BJ (while at the park this morning, collecting sticks and pebbles): "Here's some nature!"