Yesterday, my mom (who is visiting) asked Gracie where she was from.
"HUNAN," Grace responded, emphatically.
"Where is Hunan?" we asked.
"Upstairs," she replied.
[Actually, it is. We have a map of the world on our shower curtain. Hunan is in China on a shower curtain upstairs. So literal!]
Mom and Grace were growling at each other during a silly point at dinner last night. Mom growled loudly and Grace squeaked. Mom turned to me and said as an aside, "I think I scared her."
Not skipping a beat, Grace insisted, "I'm not scared of you!" Maybe you had to be there but it was very funny at the time. She had a totally dismissive look. I think we have a 32 inch teenager in our house.
Grace loves the teenagers who live down the street. She loves Caroline, her sometimes babysitter, and Caroline's younger brother, Nick.
Me: Do you like Caroline?
Me: Do you like Nick?
Me: You don't like Nick?
G: I like Paul.
Me: Paul? We don't know a Paul.
(Funny expression, imagine her thinking "Apparently I didn't get matched with the smart parents.")
G. I like PAUL.
(Sudden realization: Caroline's teenaged boyfriend, whom Grace has met on three occasions and at whom she was making flirty smiles three weeks ago).
We do know a Paul. G likes Paul. Daddy is not amused. [Okay, maybe a little bit.] Hunh.