Daughter to me, as I'm lying in bed, reading: We're going to play.
Me: I'm snuggling.
Daughter: We can play Snuggle, then. But you have to pick a color. I'm white snuggle.
Me: I'm red snuggle.
Daughter, lying across my tummy: Mmm. I like snuggling. Now, a hawk picks us up, and flies us to the nest, ready to be eaten.
And in other news, I am wading through many pounds of paper sent home from elementary school over the last week or two. Son's homework includes a book about Godzilla in Australia fighting a monster kangaroo ("dedicated to my grandmother who lives in Australia, who gave me the insperation" [sic]).
And also, a list of proverbs to be creatively completed by Son. Herewith, a couple:
You can lead a horse to water but... not a bird.
Don't bite the hand that... gives you stuff.
A penny saved is... better than none.
The pen is mightier than the... eraser.