Catchy

I've caught Mike speaking a little Claire lately.

First, anyone who has ridden in a car with Claire knows she thinks school buses are very cool. When one is spotted, she (very loudly) announces "YELLOW BUS! YELLOW BUS!" and then after it has passed "BYE-BYE YELLOW BUS! MORE! MORE YELLOW BUS!", sometimes becoming angry at whoever is driving the car for not delivering more yellow buses fast enough. A few days ago when Mike was checking out some prices on bus rentals, he asked the receptionist if the yellow buses were rent-able. She looked at him strangely and asked "Yellow buses? You mean the school buses?"

Over the holiday weekend, we met Jim and Teresa for dinner at the Delafield Brewhaus (it was great, I recommend it). I ordered a tenderloin, and when it arrived Claire took one look at my plate and said "Poopoo". Last night, Mike was making a root beer float, and when he opened the vanilla ice cream, he saw there was something dark in the box. To be fair, the kitchen was pretty dark, but still, his first thought (or at least what he said first) was "Sheila there is something in the ice cream, I think its poop." It was actually chocolate ice cream that was left in the vanilla box after I scooped myself a bowl with a bit of each. And I should also say that this is the first time in years that we have had chocolate ice cream in the house, but still, poop?

I'm sure I am guilty of this as well. Mike will have to post examples...because...I can't think of any.