It’s a matter of interpretation

As the kids are climbing into a hot car after a hot day, Anjali is grumbling about, well yes, how hot it is.  Then, “Mommy, turn on the bow dwy-yuh, pweese!”

me: “Okay, I’ll turn on the air conditioner.”

Just call me the Rosetta Stone of Anjali-ese.

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On turning three, and other ponderous events

Anjali: “Mommy, I’m going to be thuwee, so we can thuwoh away my baby toys, coz [insert nod here] I’m going to be THUWEE.”

Me: “Okay…we’ll just box them up and give them to children who don’t have toys.

Anjali:  “Well…yeah.  Um.  Okay.  We do dat.”

Nik, giving her a big hug: “That’s okay, Anjali.  When we grow up and get married, we’ll have a baby, and then we can give it the baby toys.”

Yeah.