Squeaker is becoming quite articulate. For a two-year-old, he has a lot to say and a lot of feeling behind it. I can generally follow along, and catch up when he tosses out something recognizable. I am Gamma, Hubby is Papop, and Babygirl's is his very favorite name. He has good manners (unless he is hungry. Then, forget it).
But sometimes intelligibility meets hysteria.
He asked for, nay, demanded the ranch dressing at dinner. I think that was what he wanted anyway. Hubby gave him the Parental Stink-Eye and said, "What do you say?"
Okay, I'm sorry, I was the first to laugh. Then Hubby. My Mom, always puzzled, asked what he said? I was choking by this point, and said, "I think it was a vulgar term for, um, male..." Curlygirl shot ME the Parental Stink-Eye, said, "Nice mind, Mom! No, Squeaker, we say 'please' first and THEN 'thanks'.
Thanks? Um, not quite, but if you say so.
OhMyGoodness my sides are still aching.