Owen: Where’s dad?
Me: At work.
Owen: Silence. [He walks over to me, leans against the bed, and hangs his head down.] I waited and waited and waited and daddy wasn’t here.
Owen: Awwww. It’s a baby one.
Me: What is?
Owen: [Shows me a teeny hair clip from my dresser, then picks up a regular-sized one.] And this is the mama! I’ll put them together.
Me: [Sees Owen doing the potty dance] Owen, go potty.
Owen: Oh! Yes!
Owen: Where’s daddy?
Me: At work.
Owen: Why’s daddy at work? I’ve got to get him back for us.
And then after we went downstairs…
Owen: Looking at the picture of me and Tom over the fireplace. He’s frozen. Up in the picture. He’s not going to make a wish for me. Wait! I got it! He’s going to make a wish for me! Mama and daddy are going to make a wish for me!
(No, I have NO idea where that came from or what on earth he’s referring to.)