Oh…. LONDON!
Me: “What should I make for dinner? Something quick, easy…?”
London: “Is it poop, or what?”
London: “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleventeen…”
Graham (driving toy truck): “Oh no! Fire!”
London (very seriously): “You can’t drive through fire, your truck would blow up and you would burn inside.”
