I want to break it into five pieces. — in reference to many many things.

I have hummus in my nose. — while being rocked to sleep.

And my personal favorite needs a little context. The metal drum in our drier cracked a few weeks ago, and the other day the crack expanded to a point where it was dangerous for our clothes. Fortunately we'd bought the extended warranty, so the repair was free.

The new drum came in a very large bubble wrap bag. We played with the bag for a while; I swung him around in there, slung him over a shoulder, and bounced him up and down in it.

Then it got late and he melted. We weren't terribly successful convincing him that eating is a great cure for being hungry, so there was a lot of screaming. At one point he cried, in the same breath, I want soup. I don't want soup! (but that's not the quote). There was a lot of this.

We negotiated that if he gets in his diaper and pajamas that I'll carry him to his room in the bubble wrap bag. This was a turbulent activity, but eventually, he gets in his PJs. He's completely out of his senses and flinging arms and legs everywhere, then he hops in and I pick up the bag and carry him to his bedroom. While in transit, the crazies suddenly disappear and a calm sweet child's voice utters It's nice in here.

Then the crazies came back.