So, Elena Marie, Isabel and I were sitting around the table, eating baked chicken wings and rice. I don't recall the impetus, perhaps it was my direction to EM to eat her rice, but the little girl grabs a kernel and exclaims "Food Fight!"
Me: No-no! you know what kind of trouble you'll get into!
I didn't verbally answer, but my glare of wait-til-your-mother-finds-out was enough to silence her.
EM, harrumphing: But I wanted to have a food fight Pout-pout.
Isabel, always imitating her até: Yeah! I wanted to have a toe fight!
This proclamation caught me by surprise, not the proclamation itself, mind you, but Isabel's interpretation of what she heard. Although, really, I shouldn't've been surprised. I laughed and laughed, and then, being in an argeeable mood, we all had "toe fights". We wiggled our feet together as we giggled. Elena declared that the red and pink socks teams won and the white socks team lost.