Food, in Faelan's world, can be fweet, oily, and talty.

Sampling of Conversations in Transit

Imagine that most questions are repeated at least three times.

"What is that?"
"An old piece of orange."
"Who left that orange under there?"
"I don't know."
"I know - a woman! It was that woman!"

"What was the emergency on the train?"
"An old man wasn't feeling well, and they had to stop to make sure he would be okay."
"Why is there an emergency?"
"...because he wasn't feeling well."
"Why was he not feeling well?"
"I don't know."
"I know, he was with his daddy, and a baby, and his mommy wasn't there, and why wasn't the mommy with the baby?"
"I don't know. It's your story, you tell me."
"Why is there an old man?"
"What do you mean, why is there an old man?"
"Who made him old?"
"...life made him old. Everyone is born and then they grow older and older and older until they die."
"Who made him born?"
"His parents."
"Why was he born?"
"...because he was?"

"Daddy, I pee the bed. In my deams."
(Translation: "I peed in the bed. In my dreams.")

Alternate Realities

Lately, Faelan has been talking about "England, where I was born," and telling us things about his sister. When we point out that he doesn't have a sister, he says that he doesn't have a sister ANY MORE.

Nomenclature, Syntax

The other day, we'd been talking about foxes, and Faelan declared that we were Baby Fox, Mommy Fox, and Daddy Fox.
"What is the baby fox name?" he wanted to know.
"Faelan?" we asked.
"No! What is the baby fox name?"
"Baby Fox? Charlie? Frank?"
"No!" he said, obviously getting somewhat frustrated. "What the baby fox name IS?"
"Oh!" Joel figured out, "A kit! A fox kit."
"That's it!" said Faelan, grinning hugely.

Two-Year Old Theology

Quickly corrected, but worth recording:

God is a star.
Angels are God's wives.

Faelan, asking for some food: "'I'm hungry,' he said."

Tugging on my shirt: "'I can't get milk,' said the baby rabbit."

After I announced that it was time to leave the library, with no more 'one more minutes,' he started yelling "no," and running around in a circle, trying to avoid my putting him in the carrier. Then he yelled, "I vewy angy at that!"
I asked, "You're very angry that we have to go home right now and we don't have time to play?"
"Yep!" he said.
"Okay. Time to jump into the carrier."
"Jump!" And we were off, with no further complaints.