I heard a crash in the play room:
Me: Pierce, are you okay?
Pierce (in a whiny voice): Yeah.
Me: What are you doing?
Pierce: I'm flying.
Me: You're what?
Pierce: I'm Buzz Lightyear and I'm trying to fly.
Me: How's that working out for you?
Pierce: Not good. I keep crashing. I guess I'm falling with style.
Yesterday outside:
Pierce: I'm bored.
Me: Please don't tell me that. You can run, ride your bike, play soccer...
Pierce: Okay, I think I'll play with this classic soccer ball. (an old, half-deflated rubber ball)
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