Me: Guess what we're having for dinner. It starts with a "t".
Abraham: Tomatoes?
Me: No, but good guess.
Abraham: Tizza?
* * *
Me: Do you want crackers or pretzels?
Abraham: A cracker named pretzel.
* * *
To go along with his constant pretending, he has also started sometimes narrating himself. After a bath, I'm getting his pjs out and I suddenly hear, "A naked boy lunged at his mother, knocking her over!" Not enough warning for me to escape, however.
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