H: When you get old, you might die.
B: I am not God.
H (whiling throwing a fit): Don't touch me; I'm allergic to you! I'm allergic to you!
H (first thing in the morning): Momma, you make me happy. You make me laugh.
H: That little girl has two mommies.
Me: Cool. Some kids have two mommies.
H: Yep. Just like some kids have two sisters!
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