Wendy: Tell me what you know about Thanksgiving.
Izzy: We eat turkey and pie! And I say thank you, mama, for taking such good care of me.
Izzy: your job is to take care of me, right?
Wendy: Yes, it is. Am I doing an okay job so far?
Izzy: yeah, it’s okay.
Wendy: or am I doing a pretty good job?
Izzy: you’re doing pretty okay.
Mommy? Do you want me to have a papaya head?
Mommy, please write a letter to Santa an tell him not to bring any presents to the elevator because he is soooo cranky.
(our elevator can be a bit touchy)
Wendy: did you eat your peas at lunch today?
Wendy: why not?
Izzy: because when Pei Pei opened them they went kablaam all over the place!
While playing with a deck of cards…
Izzy: I found all the queens!
Wendy: Are you a queen?
Izzy: No, I am a genius.
After the Cirque du Soleil show…
Wendy: Did you like the show?
Wendy: What was your favorite part?
Izzy: The dancing and the end.
I’m too tired for cabbage, but I’m not to tired for this (spaetzle).
Mommy, when I am grown up and can take care of myself, you can still call me Baby.
When you are three years old, you do not have to worry about yourself to die. When you are old and a half, you do need to worry about yourself to die.
Wendy: Can I hold your hand?
Izzy: No but I still love you.
Izzy picked my bra up off the floor and said: Can I wear your booby shoes?
Izzy: I am Santa Claus. Here is your present. (she handed me a plastic pillow puff from a box that we just received in the mail.)
Wendy: But Santa, I asked for a pony
Izzy: Whoops! Too bad!