Yesterday, I heard V's voice from the kitchen, where some of the leftovers from Thanksgiving had been sitting for about 28 hours:
"Mama, what's in that pot on the stove?"
"It's cold gravy, honey. Why?"
"Because it doesn't taste like chocolate."
Today, from the dining room, in a melodramatic, swoony voice: "Mom, I think I'm falling in love with cream cheese."
So much hilarity in one little person.