"Oh Nora, you're my favorite Norsie!"
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Me: You don't wear diapers because you're a big kid.
Sylvie: Yeah, and I don't barf everywhere either.
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"We chose this baby! Yup! We chose you, Barf Face!"
[Sylvie often tells Nora that we chose her. She seems to be under the impression that there was some sort of selection process.]
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"Mommy, you have barf on you. And you smell like barf too."
[Have we mentioned that Nora spits up? A lot.]
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