Tollie talks. A lot. (Where would he have learned that?)

You know, we wouldn’t have to take out the compost if we had a pet raccoon. 

Using a magnifying glass: Lemme just zoom in on this.

Let’s have hugging time, every single hour.  {Sign me up.}

Yuck. My sneeze took the wrong hole out. 

What if there was a taco-dile?!  Like a crocodile, but with a taco shell body and avocados for legs and sour cream toes...

Hank just did a booger check on me. 
Me: Where would he have learned that?
Booger school.

Describing "four bad things about being a baby" :: can’t chew gum, no new lego sets, have to take naps, dirty diapers
"Good things too" :: yogurt bites, get to try new things all the time, everyone thinks you're cute, can knock things over without getting in trouble

Lamenting the trials of being five: It's not fair that Tucker went through six and seven already. 

Every single cat in the whole universe loves bacon.  I know because at Poppy's house, Pawley eats it. 

Discussing a smashed bug on the van window:
It’s a tiger beetle. I can tell because it’s green and yellow. Emerald green. But it’s dead. 
Tuck: They only live in Australia. Or Africa. Not here, anyway. They could migrate though. I bet it’s a dung beetle.
Tollie: Dung is poop.  There's not poop on the van.

Knocking down structures or coloring on brother's homework or forgetting to be quiet, and at least eighteen times a day:  Well, I didn’t meant to.