Conversations With My Daughter (2)

My daughter is 2 years-old. Sometimes we talk. It never makes any sense.

Me (calling out from the bathroom): "Baby. Where did you put the hair brush?"

Princess Teacup (walking into the bathroom): "The brush?"

Me: "Yes. I saw you playing with it."

Princess Teacup (quickly looking over her shoulder and then back at me): "The brush flew away Daddy."

Me (crossing my arms): "The brush flew away? Really? How did the brush fly away?"

Princess Teacup (pointing to the sky, spinning in circles, and making fart noises with her tongue)

Me (sighing): "Ok. I guess I won't comb your hair today."

Princess Teacup (running away, laughing): "Super Grover!"