C, in the car earlier:

[doing the hand motions]
"Here is the church, here is the steeple,
open the door and see all the people."

C: What's this? [folding fingers under]
Me: The church.
C: What's this? [pointing index fingers]
Me: The steeple.
C: What's this? [turning hands upside down]
Me: The people.
C: What's this? [pointing out the window]
Me: I don't know.
C: [in duh! tone of voice] The trees, mommy!!



Walking through the church's outdoor chapel and memorial garden
C: What does that rock say?
Me: William B. Jones, born on August 7, 1952, died May 23, 2004.
C: He died on the rock?!?



Edited to add: one I really don't know what to do with

[While reading "The Man Who Walked Between the Towers" to C, a Caldecott Honor book about Philippe Petit who walked a tightrope between the Twin Towers in 1974]
Me: He felt alone and happy and completely free...
The towers are gone now. [trying not to turn the page too hurriedly]
But in memory, as if imprinted on the sky, the towers are still there. And part of that memory is the joyful day, August 7, 1974, when Philippe Petit walked between--
C: [interrupting] Why are they gone now?
Me: Well, they fell down.
C: Why did they fall down?
Me:
C: Mommy, what are you thinking about?
Me:
C: Mommy?
Me: Well, there was an explosion, and a fire, and they fell down.
C: Mommy, look at my glow stick!

Thank God for the short attention span of the three-year-old.



And a song for the divinely regular miss m

to the tune of a Christmas carol few people will know

Past poop o'clock
When the poopie fills the dia-per
Past poop o'clock
Good morrow, Baby M!

When she goes crawl-ing,
That gets things mov-ing,
Then she goes into a cor-ner,
And we hear grunt-ing...!

Past poop o'clock
When the poopie fills the dia-per
Past poop o'clock
Good morrow, Baby M!