Iona has come a long way in the art of conversation and I'm constantly surprised by the scope of her vocabulary.
I still often find myself scared by some of our conversations.
On remarking on a painting in my Trafalgar Memorial Bathroom:
Iona: Who is that guy in the painting.
Me: That is Admiral Horatio Nelson.
Iona: Can we meet him?
Me: Sorry dear, he's been dead for over two hundred years.
Iona: How'd he die?
Me: He died in a big battle.
Iona: Where is he now?
Me: He's buried a St. Paul's Cathedral. We can visit it sometime.
Iona: Can we dig him up?
Me: What?!
Iona: I want to dig him up.
Me: I don't think they'd take to well to you digging up one of Britain's national heroes.
Iona: I wanna dig him up.
Me: And moving right along...
Having placed a large ball under her shirt:
Iona: This is my real baby.
Me: I see.
Iona: He's gonna come out of my crotch.
Me: Who told you about that??!
Iona: Evily.
Me: Evily, you're imaginary friend?
Iona: Yeah.
Me: Remind me to have a chat with Evily.
Iona: It's the baby Jesus.
Me: What?! Where did you get that name?
Iona: Evily.
Me: Evily scares me.
We recently started playing Junior Scrabble with Iona. We figured it would be a great way for her to help learn her letters and words. I didn't imagine she'd be beating me already...
So I moved her on to my old version of the game of Life:
Iona: I want more promisory notes!
Me: Iona, you've got all of them already. Ideally, you don't want to have any. You've bought an office building, saved a polluted lake, and went on an Antarctic expedition. You are over five hundred thousand dollars in debt. How's that university degree and sixteen thousand dollar salary working out for you?
Iona: Quite good!
She almost beat me the second time around.
Recently while playing on the organ...
Iona: I have a pirate song. Would you like to hear it?
Me: Would I ever?! Sure!
Iona: Damn pirates, damn! Damn pirates, damn!
Me: That is awesome.
Iona: I have another one, too. Damn, air pirates, damn! Damn air pirates, damn!
Me: That's really great. I love your imagination.
Iona: I have too many pirate songs.
Personally, I don't think you can ever have 'too many' pirate songs.
One of her early morning breakfast discussions:
Iona: My friend Evily has her own show.
Me: That's nice.
Iona: It's called: 'Barf, Barf, Anger!'
Me: I love it. What happens in it?
Iona: People get really angry, then they barf!
Me: That's the best thing ever. That should totally be a real show.
Iona: It is a real show!
Me: Sorry, of course it is.
Iona: It's a secret show. Only five people are allowed to watch it.
Me: I don't think you understand how television works... ideally you'd like as many people as possible to watch your show. Having a secret show that only five people were allowed to watch would reduce it's chances of being made considerably.
Iona: That's boring. Anyway, the bad guy got angry, and barfed in his bed. He didn't clean up the chunks.
Me: You're killing me.
They should have more programs developed by kids.
I still often find myself scared by some of our conversations.
On remarking on a painting in my Trafalgar Memorial Bathroom:
Iona: Who is that guy in the painting.
Me: That is Admiral Horatio Nelson.
Iona: Can we meet him?
Me: Sorry dear, he's been dead for over two hundred years.
Iona: How'd he die?
Me: He died in a big battle.
Iona: Where is he now?
Me: He's buried a St. Paul's Cathedral. We can visit it sometime.
Iona: Can we dig him up?
Me: What?!
Iona: I want to dig him up.
Me: I don't think they'd take to well to you digging up one of Britain's national heroes.
Iona: I wanna dig him up.
Me: And moving right along...
Having placed a large ball under her shirt:
Iona: This is my real baby.
Me: I see.
Iona: He's gonna come out of my crotch.
Me: Who told you about that??!
Iona: Evily.
Me: Evily, you're imaginary friend?
Iona: Yeah.
Me: Remind me to have a chat with Evily.
Iona: It's the baby Jesus.
Me: What?! Where did you get that name?
Iona: Evily.
Me: Evily scares me.
We recently started playing Junior Scrabble with Iona. We figured it would be a great way for her to help learn her letters and words. I didn't imagine she'd be beating me already...
So I moved her on to my old version of the game of Life:
Iona: I want more promisory notes!
Me: Iona, you've got all of them already. Ideally, you don't want to have any. You've bought an office building, saved a polluted lake, and went on an Antarctic expedition. You are over five hundred thousand dollars in debt. How's that university degree and sixteen thousand dollar salary working out for you?
Iona: Quite good!
She almost beat me the second time around.
Recently while playing on the organ...
Iona: I have a pirate song. Would you like to hear it?
Me: Would I ever?! Sure!
Iona: Damn pirates, damn! Damn pirates, damn!
Me: That is awesome.
Iona: I have another one, too. Damn, air pirates, damn! Damn air pirates, damn!
Me: That's really great. I love your imagination.
Iona: I have too many pirate songs.
Personally, I don't think you can ever have 'too many' pirate songs.
One of her early morning breakfast discussions:
Iona: My friend Evily has her own show.
Me: That's nice.
Iona: It's called: 'Barf, Barf, Anger!'
Me: I love it. What happens in it?
Iona: People get really angry, then they barf!
Me: That's the best thing ever. That should totally be a real show.
Iona: It is a real show!
Me: Sorry, of course it is.
Iona: It's a secret show. Only five people are allowed to watch it.
Me: I don't think you understand how television works... ideally you'd like as many people as possible to watch your show. Having a secret show that only five people were allowed to watch would reduce it's chances of being made considerably.
Iona: That's boring. Anyway, the bad guy got angry, and barfed in his bed. He didn't clean up the chunks.
Me: You're killing me.
They should have more programs developed by kids.
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