Oh, the things 33-month-olds say...
Like when you're trying to sneak in a few minutes, even seconds, of sleep while they play quietly in their bedroom and your baby is snoozing in the swing and they say every five minutes in a loud whisper, "'Scuse' me, Mommy. Is 'dis' too loud?" referring to the Mrs. Potato Head (no batteries required) they're playing with beside their big-girl bed where you're napping.
"No, Honey," you tell them.
"Oh!" they exclaim, no longer in a whisper, "thought 'dis' was too loud." Giggle. Giggle.
Or when they discover a nut cracker in the kitchen drawer and cry when you take it away, "No! I need it for my puppies! Using my imagination, Mommy!" (Why on earth Madeline needed a nutcracker for imaginary puppies is beyond me.)
Or when they start prancing on their tiptoes not because they're pretending to be a graceful ballerina but because their "butt hurts." Then the butt-hurting ballerina tells you, "Need some 'pivacy,' peas. Have to poop." (Like you ever get privacy to do your business.)
Or when your husband says how sad it will be when his girls grow up and leave to go to college and your little eavesdropper gets a really serious look on her face and says, "[I] don't want to leave."
So you tell her she won't have to leave for a long, long time, not until she's much older and she looks relieved and then stops to further ponder the possibility of this valediction before happily announcing, "[I] can't drive yet!" As if that's the only thing keeping her from leaving the nest at her ripe, old age of 2 1/2. And then you think she's forgotten all about this entire exchange until the next morning when she looks into your eyes and says, "I don't want to go to college."
Or when you find yourself crying because you feel overwhelmed and your sweet, sweet child gently touches a wet tear trail on your face and says, "Mommy, don't cry." And you smile through the tears and thank God for all the funny, nonsensical, and at times, preternaturally mature and empathetic things your little verbal munchkin says.