Tonight: So, Scott's at work and I'm trying to get Betsy to finish her toast by bribing her with canned peaches. (Um, very, very gross ones. In case you wondered.) She tells me she's "done eating toast," and, before I can even ask, she's followed up with, "It's all gone." She starts rapid-firing the "It's-all-gone" phrase, then becomes abruptly silent as I approach her chair.
I guess she still hasn't figured out the dropping-it-on-the-floor trick, because when I go to her chair, there's a huge slab of upside-down toast sitting smack-dab in the middle of her tray.
"You do too have toast! It's right here!" I tell her, turning it right-side up.
"It's sleeping." she replies.
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