Oh. THAT Phase.

I knew it was coming, I just thought maybe we had until closer to three. The phase? The one where my child speaks the plain ol' unvarnished truth. (The scene: Breakfast room table. Breakfast with Ell-man and Mommy. Brooklyn in small rocker next to the table.) Elliott: Mommy have bih-oof. Mommy: Heh? Elliott: Mommy's big-oof. Mommy: ???? Elliott: Mommy have big teef (while pointing to his own teeth) Mommy: (smothering dejected laughter) You're right, Ell. Mommy does have big teeth. It's true. Bugs Bunny and I evidently have the same ancestors. I'm not sure where this particular trait originated, as my parents have normal-sized teeth. You, dear reader, are probably thinking that I'm speaking in hyperbole, but alas, I speak only the truth.

See? I've read some studies that show people with big teeth are perceived to be in good health, or something along those lines, and if that's the case people should perceive me to the epitome of health and to live forever.