Apparently, it’s a weee-oooo, weee-ooo fancy car.

I’ve never heard another human being call it that in the history of ever.

But what do I know? Not much I guess because, “it’s NOT a police car, mom! It’s a weee-ooo, weee-ooo fancy car!”

Also, “it’s NOT a fire truck, mom! It’s a fire station!”

ok, honey.

Impossible as it seems, I know I’ll forget at some point that he called them that. So I’m documenting it here.

Clark does listen to me sometimes. Yesterday, he acquired a pair of cowboy boots, which he loves. It took some convincing, but I think he believes me now that they aren’t “running boots.” He was sure they were. So now, accepting the fact that they’re “walking boots,” he seems to think that merely wearing them entitles him to walk the neighborhood at leisure and I’m being nagged.