Overheard.

At the table during lunch on Friday:
Josie: "Santa knows if I been good or bad so I better be good. For goodness sake. Or NO PRESENTS."

At her 3-year checkup on Friday:
"I want the doctor to give me a ketchup now."

After lunch on Friday:
Josie: "I wanna sucker."
Me: "No. You're all done."
Josie: "NO. I not. You're mistaken."

Playing with Eve on Friday afternoon:
Josie: holding hands up, exasperated. "Why are you so CRABBY?"

Playing in the living room, directed at me after I asked her to stop standing on the couch and falling down:
Josie: in a very serious, deep tone. "Don't ever say that again."

Every time she needs to use the bathroom for number 2:
Josie: "Please close the door. I need privacy."

Playing with her baby:
Josie: "WHOA. This baby's diaper is LOADED."

In church today. Pat promised her that they'd get to have donuts and juice after the service.
Josie: whipsering, right after the service started. "Daddy. When do we get donuts?" a few minutes later, leaning in. "Psst. Daddy. I have a question. Come here. Is it almost time for donuts, yet?"

During the nighttime ritual a couple of nights ago. I was singing songs. Pat was snuggling with Eve, when he, uh - tooted. Loud.
Eve: in a perfectly clear, matter of fact voice. "POOP." a couple of seconds later. "ICKY POOP." then, still not ready to let it go. "'TINKY POOP."
It's awfully difficult to jump back in the middle of a quiet, calm rendition of "Silent Night" when you're crying from laughing so hard.