Yesterday afternoon, as we were driving back from my parents' house, Charlie made the mistake of making a noise. One noise. Seriously, the sweet boy had been quiet as a mouse for a solid 45 minutes. So quiet, in fact, that twice I asked Mary Clare to peek over and check on her brother. And his breathing.
A split second after emitting a cheerful little chirp, Mary Clare laid in to him.
Mary Clare: Stop it, Chawlie! You're annoring me! That is annoring when you make that noise!"
Me: Mary Clare, use kind words. Charlie was just talking to us.
Mary Clare: Well, it is annoring! I don't like it when Chawlie is annoring! It is annoring to me!
I kind of wish Charlie had piped up again, because I loved hearing Mary Clare go on about how annoring it all was, but Charlie, oblivious to the chaos he had caused, was kicked back and enjoying the scenery. Ah, the joys of still being in a rear-facing car seat.
So, what do I love more? That Mary Clare is building her vocabulary, or that she is butchering said vocabulary words for all she's worth? I'm not going to lie. I have to go with the latter.