Chloe just came in from outside, declaring it was too cold and too scary to be outside.
"Why is it scary?"
"The swing makes loud noises and there's a bee and the biggest bug I ever saw."
This doesn't mean much to me since the last bug she insisted was the biggest she ever saw was a gnat on a rose. I tell her, "Well, I need to go outside and put some chemicals in the pool."
"Oh, it's a good day to have a pool. It's nice and hot."
"Chloe, is it hot or cold? You just said it was too cold outside."
"Oh. I want to go blow bubbles outside. D'Bye."
And I wonder why I can't keep up. The other day we were in the car and she started talking about how she was growing bigger and bigger. She said soon she would be big enough to drive the car and be as big as me and dad, and one day she would be all grown up and leave. I reassured her that that was a long time away, and I got to take care of her for a long time. My reassurances fell on deaf ears, though, and by the time we arrived at dance class, she was in tears, distraught over the possiblity of moving out one day. "But I don't want to grow up, I want to live in our house forever and ever."
My other favorite Chloe-ism right now is the phrase "Done degot." I'll use it in a sentence. "Mom, you done degot to bring my pictures to dance class!" Yeah, I've done degot to do a lot of things lately. But I am remembering to write this stuff down!