I picked up Tristan at daycare. We sat in the car a moment waiting for a dad to move out of the way of our car so I didn't plow over him and his adorable baby daughter.
Tristan says, "Dat's Candy. I wike her and she wikes me."
"Yeah? That's nice."
"She wikes me and she wikes Twevor."
I always try to make conversation with Tristan because he likes to talk and for a long time didn't really have anything much to say. It's been fun lately because we can actually have a two-way conversation. Good times.
"So, she is your friend then?"
"Yes, she wikes me cause she wicked my hand."
This is a new thing, I guess. When I was a kid you know a girl liked you when she punched you. But now it's looking like a girl likes you if she licks your hand.
"She licked your hand? And that's how you know she likes you?" (It's always good to clarify.)
"Uh huh. She wikes me. She wicked my hand. Das how she wikes me."