Conversations with a Five Year Old

Brynna: Screams in agony
Me: Are we ready to eat?
The Husband: Yep.
Brynna: Why aren't you doing what you normally do when I cry?
TH: We are, we're ignoring you.
Brynna: That's what you normally do. Mommy, why aren't you doing what you normally do?
Me: Well, I don't know. What do I normally do?
Brynna: Say, "What's wrong sweetie?"
Me: What's wrong sweetie?
Brynna: Daddy said I could be the chef and then he took the food to the table. And it's not fair because I wanted to be the chef and take the food to the table.
Me: Well, you know, it's not usually the chef who brings the food to the table. It's the waiter or waitress. So, maybe daddy was confused about what you wanted to do.
TH: Yeah, I didn't realize you wanted to bring it to the table. I totally would have let you. The chef cooks the food.
Brynna: Did I cook the food? NO. So you should have known that I wanted to do something and asked what it was. But, I'll forgive you, this time, and come and eat. Pass the sprinkly cheese.
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Brynna: Suddenly wailing incomprehensibly. Out of nowhere.
Me: What's wrong?
Brynna: Uncle D can't have a monster truck!
Me: What?
Brynna: Uncle D was going to make the ford into a monster truck and NiNi won't let him.
Me: Uncle D doesn't have a Ford, he has a Dodge.
Brynna: No, the other Ford, at Papaw's house.
Me: Well, sweetie. It isn't his truck.
Brynna: But Uncle D said that if he got a monster truck, he'd take me for a riiiide.
Me: Well, okay. Confusedly shakes head.
[Ed note: This was last week. Uncle D bought a monster truck this week. It is vair cool according to Brynna and she should know, Uncle D took her mudding. No, you read that right. It's really a verb.]
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Brynna: This is Sticky. I love her.
Me: I thought Sticky was the big stick in my car.
Brynna: This is Sticky. I love her.
Me: So I can throw the stick in my car out. Because I'd love my car to be a stick free zone.
Brynna: No, you can't throw Sticky out.
Me: But you said that's Sticky and so the stick in my car can't be Sticky.
Brynna: They are both Sticky and I love her. Hers. Them.
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And, for the first time ever! Conversation with a One Year Old:

Me: Maren, do you want milk or juice?
Maren: Blank stare.
Me: Puts down cup and does the sign language. Milk or juice?
Maren: Joo.
Me: Juice. Okay. Pours cup.
Maren: Non. Joo.
Me: Juice? Holds out cup.
Maren: Non. Joo.
Me: Juice?
Maren: Non. Joo. JOOOOOO. Joo.
Me: What? Possible panic welling up
Maren: Walks to door and picks up shoe. Joooooo.
Me: Oh.