Nonsensicles

On why she needs the radio off in the car: “Because I’m just trying to think about ponies, and I want no distraction.”

On her pre-use bowl check: “Just looking to see what excitement is in the toilet.”

On the phlebotomist: “He’s the little crazy blood taker!”

On how strong Daddy is, relative to others: “Not like those old ladies. You could spin and toss them around.”

On her stuffed dog: “He’s always kind and gentrous. And ossidy. And French.”

On how what she likes about a friend’s birthday invitation: “Everything is Strawberry Shortcake-ed.”

On her sickness plans for the bathroom: “Then the throwing up after the pee.”

On what she wanted after shouting across the house for Daddy: “Just testing.”

On caring for animals: “I like animals. I never ever kill them.”

On special cases: “Except fish.”

On things that are easy to say “no” to: “Dad, can I shave Maggie?”

On Gabe being done with breakfast: “Let’s get ‘im out and get ‘im running.”

On phrases that can be used to interrupt anything your parents are talking about: “And so…”

On the right way to start a sentence: “If I had wings… When I get wings…”

On why she nearly walked into that shopping cart: “My eyes are kind of burly.”

On the potential diversity of nature: “There might be bees that work on magnets.

On evidence for her bee magnet theory: “That’s why they go Chshhhhhhh.”

On where you might end up, vis a vis dragons: “The people the dragons don’t eat, they put them in a sack.”

On why she thinks Maggie hurt her paw: “We played a game that was kind of a doggish game.”

On the purpose of her blanket fort: “In case there is a major insult, people can put flowers right there under that.”

On remodeling: “If we turn our house into a tower with no door in it, then probably you can grow my hair long…”

On her nutritional plan: “My body just wants me to have cereal or treats.”

On starting a game: “Let’s play basketball. I’ll kick it to you.”

On my request that she put on her shoes so we can go to the store: “No. Of course not. I would never do that.”

On the Ott’s house: “I think a dinosaur lived here, long long ago.”

On Limbo’s incessant meowing: “Why should I believe you cats?’

On the gate at the bottom of the stairs being locked: “My shoes door is closed.”

On picking colors: “It’s not a game, it’s a contest.”

On how to repeatedly refer to her Uncle Andy: “Megan’s wife.”

On the perils of riding on Daddy’s shoulders: “I’m too close to the stars.”

On observations, humorous: “Wouldn’t it be funny if a sign all pooped its letters out?”

On her unraveled cape: “Can you ravel it again for me?”

On protecting the anonymity of the villain in a story about school: “I’m going to call him boyfriend for now.”

On how to approach the “touch-and-feel” pictures in Gabe’s animal book: “With one scientific finger.”

On the parameters of the game: “We’re dogs learning Spanish, alright?”

On what she’s doing to delay bedtime: “I’m getting stuff for my job when I’m all grown up.”

On the acceptable themes for her birthday party: “As long as it’s not boyish.”

On sneaky people: “They do not get their hair trimmed, unfortunately.”

On what sneaky girls do on Thanksgiving: “They take off and sneak.”

On whether I can join her when she moves to “a snow place” when she grows up: “No, you have to stay with your wife.”

On her relationship with her brother, vis a vis Christmas: “I’m the boss. I’m supposed to tell you of the tree.”

On why she’s a good guy: “I save people that are, like, falling, or hurt by dragons.”

On her awesome birthday present for me: “It’s a mug that you cannot use!”

On the potentially bad behavior of the players in the Chargers game: “Why do they need a time out?”

On upcoming lessons: “Alright, Gabe. Tomorrow you’re going to learning about changelings.”

On the Halloween skeleton: “He died while he was smiling.”

On finding her prince: “I’m looking for him online.”

On why the cat got out: “I didn’t do it. When I opened the door, Limbo escaped.”

On the cats’ wedding ceremony, delivered in the highest possible pitch: “And now we need you guys to stick together as wife and neighbor.”

On my failure to set the timer on the Halloween lights properly: “I’m not surprised.”

On a comment that works in support of almost anything she says: “True story.”

On why the black leotard is no good: “That one does not have, like, tentacles on the back.”

On the entrepreneurial spirit: “Can I sell one of my crayons, Dad?”

On existential threats: “I am a rattlesnake that changes into a vampire!”

On what she wants to attach to the calendar she’s making: “Wood like a road.”

On what that loud bang was: “I’m not entirely sure.”

On the yard stick in the garage: “Smells creepy.”

On why she’s not ready for bathtime: “There’s playing to be done.”

On questions to ask as your Dad leaves the room at bedtime: “Tell me. How’s mom doin’?”

On being told she can’t drive until she’s sixteen: “Fifteen.”