Ollie: “Every minute, every second, too much spit gets in my mouth and I have to swallow it down. That’s how MY body works.”

Ollie: “Evie is dill.”
Me: “What?”
Ollie: “Evie is dill, so she’s too weak to stand and she’s going to die.”
Me: “Dill?”
Ollie: “Yeah. Really sick.”

::We went out in to the storage area::
Evie: “It smells good out here!”
Me: “Really??”
Evie: “I would like to eat whatever this smells like.”

I guess she would like to eat some musty, dusty antiques, because that’s what it smelled like. Or maybe not, because later:

Evie: “It smells like the rotten potatoes. But I would still like to eat it.”