Garrett: I had those kinds of potatoes before.
Garrett: A long time ago. Only God knows.
Mike: What kind of dressing do you want?
Garrett: The kind that isn’t made (homemade).
While my blue bear is at Aunt Brooke’s I’m going to take a piece of fuzz to bed.
Uncle Brad is going to cut this (fallen down) branch into a mill-ion pieces.
Jack: Blabbering to a block.
Me: I love you, yellow block.
Garrett: What’s a ghetto rock?
Mama, I have a question. A) We love God. B) We don’t like Satan.
I want to have lunch and go to bed.
Yaya, see how I’m cleaning up and not playing? Copy me.
Garrett: I’m spitting this water out of my face so I don’t melt.
Mike: Are you made of sugar?
Garrett: Yes. Sugar and bones.
Me: Do you want a cupcake or danish for dessert?
Me: It doesn’t have any frosting.
Mike: If you’re smart, you’ll say danish.
Garrett: Danish. Because I’m fart.
Garrett: Why do you want to lay down?
Me: Because I’m old.
Garrett: What mold?