Five-year-old son: “When I grow up, I want to be a dollah.”

Me: “A dollar?”

Five-year-old son: “Yes, a dollah.”

Three-year-old daughter: “When I grow up, I want to be a doctor.”

Seven-year-old daughter: “When I grow up, I want to work at Target.”

Five-year-old son: “When I grow up, I want to be a rich guy.” (which of course must be easier than actually being a dollar)

Seven-year-old daughter:“Mom, did you know vanilla isn’t actually blonde, it’s brown?”

Me (after dressing Lily): “Okay, now–you’re good to go!”Three-year-0ld daughter, looking down at her pajamas: “Oh! I forgot to get good to go!”