My three-year-old: Look at me, Daddy! I'm NAKED!
My husband: I don't need a PhD in nakedology to see you lost your pants again.
My three-year-old: I pooped! But if I eat it, it will make me sick.
Me: He really does listen.
"Cadbury Minieggs are of the devil. He laid them and then he packaged them and put them at the endcap of every check out stand in Target."
Me: I promise, the lunch lady is not out to get you. Also, stop tearing your styrofoam tray into small bits every day. Then maybe she'd be even less out to get you. But she's definitely not out to get you.
My husband: Your pants are too big.
Me: I love you!
*The sounds of much smooching.