- Dictator: Mama! Daddy needs a cloth, dammit!
- Me: Pardon me?
- Dictator: Daddy telled me to ask you to get him a cloth, dammit.
- Me: Daddy what?
- Dictator: [Slower] Daddy needs a cloth. A wet cloth. He wants you to dammit.
- Me: Daddy needs me to dampen a cloth?
- Dictator: Yes! That's what I said! Dammit!
When I’m putting the Dictator to bed, I often tickle her forearms to help her relax. Tonight she was finally settling in (after an impressive display of her physical and vocal strength), when she turned to me and asked, “Mama? May you please tickle my foreskin?”
- Dictator, counting cutlery: One, two, three, four!
- Husband: Can you count them in French?
- Dictator: Uno, dos, tres, cuatro!
- Husband: Close enough.
It took three tries and some immature snorts from me to realize that the Dictator was asking if I wanted to decorate a gingerbread man.