An actual dinner conversation:
Paul and I are eating Subway and the kids are eating
chicken strips from the corner gas station. (at home)
(These strips rival KFC. Seriously.)
Noah seems to realize Paul has something different than
he does and says something I've very rarely heard him say:
"Daddy, I-ona bite-a yours."
After staring at me in disbelief for a moment, Paul leans over
and gives Noah a bite of his Subway club with the works.
As soon as the bite goes in it is promptly yucked back into
Noah points at the lettuce on Paul's sub seriously and says,
"Daddy, I dest don't wike your seaweed!"
Maybe we watch too much Spongebob.