B: "Mom, I sure love your blue robe."
A: "I'm pretty sure it's green."
B: "Well, I sure love your green robe because Grammie has a white one."
A: "Oh. Thank you?"
At least once a day:
B: "I can't say ____ because ____ is a bad word, and I can't say it. I can't say that word."
A: "If you keep saying that word, I'm washing your mouth out with vinegar. TELLING me you can't say it is still saying it, which is disobedient."
B: "Oh no, it's not disobedient, it's an accident."
On July 30th:
B: "OH! Momma, you got your braces off! Oooh, that's smooth (running his finger over my teeth). Let's wrestle."
Wrestling was one of things that reliably hurt me, as he'd smack me in the mouth, and I would tear up and cry uncle with a mouthful of blood.
Ok, maybe it wasn't that bad, but he sure got me in the face a lot, and it hurt pretty badly.