Hanging out in bed the other morning, my child says to me:
"I'm a doggy, Mama. I'm a doggy."
Then she licks my face.
She likes to talk on two phones at a time. These phones are usually actually calculators, cups, toy walkie-talkies, toy food, or whatever is handy.
A funny joke right now is to point at me and say, "That's dada," then point at her dad and say "And that's Mama."
We eat imaginary chips and pretzels that she finds everywhere: on the ground, in the bath, under the table, in books.
Anything remotely counter-like becomes a restaurant from which she serves us. "What do you want, Mama?" then she runs off to retrieve the imagined item, goes back behind the "counter," and hands us empty air.
Make believe is fun!