Not on Your Overalls, Bubba!

My friend Debbie is here visiting for the weekend.
Her husband flew her out as a birthday gift for her and I am thrilled.
This did mean that yesterday I drove to the airport with Little and Bubba in tow at one of the worst traffic times in St. Louis, but it was all good.
On the way home, Bubba had gotten sufficiently bored and had begun to bang his cup of water onto his seatbelt and legs to see the little drops that ekeed out of the spill proof lid. I corrected him and said, “No, sweetie, we drink it. We don’t want it to spill.” He took a sip and all seemed well.
Next thing I know, Little is saying, “Not on your overalls, Bubba.” as he is knocking it again.
I took the cup away.
And then took the next mile to smile and repeat in my mind that my little girl had just said, “Not on your overalls, Bubba” (only using his real name).

It is odd what gives you joy, eh? Little usually just repeats folks. That might be one of her longest self-created sentences ever!

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