Upon turning on the light in her room in an attempt to wake her up, she responded, "Oh..I'm twying..I'm twying...I'm twying to wake up my eyes. Mama, turn out the light...it's too bwight for my eyes to wake up." When I turned out the light per her request she responded, "Dere. Dats bettuh."
Sign that she's his:
Her freakishly mad puzzle skills.
Sign that she's the child of aliens:
While pulling the tiniest piece of meat from her mouth (from her required 3 bites of that evening's poison soup), she says, "Mama! I TOLD you, I DON'T LIKE BACON!"
DNA is a curious, curious thing.
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