Backseat driver

It's been tricky business driving with Sophie in the car these days. Don't get me wrong, she's the model passenger- she never makes "helpful" comments about my driving skills, she doesn't tell me which route she prefers to take, and she always keeps her hands inside the moving vehicle (being strapped into a car seat helps..). What makes driving difficult with her around is how hard she's been making me laugh with the things she says. It's not that they're particularly funny, but taken in the context of when and how she's saying them, plus the realization that she's picking up so much language just from listening to us, it's just been sheer delight!

[To everyone whizzing by us in their bike, whether or not they're wearing a helmet] Where's your helmet?!!

Firetruck, you hungry? Want some bunny crackers? It's tasty!

It's windy, Mama. Trees waving at Sophie.

Where's sun hiding? There he is! Hiding the clouds.

This our car. Our car is good.

Mama no criss-cross applesauce. Mama is driving.

[To joggers she happens to see along the sidewalk] Have a good jogging!

And my favorite thus far:
[As we turned into our parking lot and I told her we had arrived home] Good job, Mama! Good job!

Of course, in 12 years (or less) when she's burning through her college tuition in phone bills (or whatever form of communication her father and I are going to have to pay for), someone reading this right now will surely remind me that there once was a time when I was proud of and celebrated her chattiness...