Ana to Wes, “Girls rule.  Boys drool.  And what’s even freakier than that is that boys are NASTY.  Especially when they chew with their mouths open.”  Well, all right, then.  So much information, all at once.  (And it’s TRUE!)

Emma to me, on Coach’s half marathon finish, “Coach ran, too?  But WHY?!”  I think Coach was asking himself the very same question towards the end.

Ana to Wes, “Oh, Nana is going to buy us those books.”  Wes to Ana, “How do you know that?”  Ana to Wes, “Because I saw her put them in her online cart.”  She’s on to Nana’s preferred method of shopping…

Emma, on the subject of respect, “What does it mean to respect someone?”  Me to Emma, “It means to speak well of them and to show them honor.”  Emma to me, “Ohhhh… so, if I want to respect someone, I should say, ‘I like you, and you are very beautiful.'”  Me to Emma, “Not really.”  Mommy needs a better definition for respect, y’all.

Ana to me, “I need to start a blog.”  Me to Ana, “What would you write on your blog?”  Ana to me, “Mommy and Papi funnies.”  Yeah, I’m thinking those wouldn’t be half as funny as Faulkette funnies, but whatever…

Emma, upon discovering that she owns her very own set of pearls from Okinawa, “Why are these not in my room?”  Me to Emma, “I’m going to keep them safe for you in my room until you’re much older.”  Emma to me, “How much older?”  Me to Emma, “Like, when you’re ready to go to college.  That older.”  Emma to me, “Okay, so when I’m twelve.”  Nope.

Ana to me, discussing her Sunday school lesson, “Moses parted the Red Sea… is that what we have to cross over to get to Oklahoma?” Me to Ana, “No, that’s the Red River.” I can see why she’d be confused.

Ana, randomly one day, “I have to admit — I don’t really like One Direction.”  Me, neither.  Thanks for sharing.

Ana to me, “I had so much fun today!” Me to Ana, “I know. I’m exhausted.” Ana to me, “How can you be exhausted when all we did was have fun?!” Me to Ana, “Fun is exhausting, Ana.” This is the mantra of every mom of young children, isn’t it?

Me to Emma, as she was carrying on like a wounded cow, “Maybe I should put that baby cow out of its misery.” Ana to me, “Maybe you should put it out of its moo-sery.” Love that quippy girl!