On the way home yesterday afternoon from school: 

O: Wus for dinnuh?  I’m hungry.

Me: I don’t know, what would you like.

O: Let me think…going left or right? (Turning off of our street, we have to go left or right and, depending on which way we turn, that decides our choices of restaurants)

Me: Left.

O: Chinese.  I’ll eat green beans, noodles, and baby corns.

Me: You’ll need to ask your daddy if he wants Chinese.

O: He will.  He likes it.

Me: We’ll see.

O: We’ll see.

Fast forward to dinner at the Chinese restaurant….

O: Daddy…You dinner good?

W: Yes, it’s delicious.

O: Bon appetit, soldier boy.

Before anyone asks, that’s all the French she knows…we practiced it all the way home.  He scowls at me for teaching her some of her most beloved catch phrases.  He’s still grumpy over “Bons (a.k.a. Bon Jovi) Rocks!”  I, on the other hand, simply love it. love it. love it.