Elle says the darnedest things ... (v. 6)

Me: "You're driving me bananas!"
E: "You're driving me oranges!"

E: "Is this Daddy's toothpaste?"
Me: "Yes, but don't touch it. It's sticky."
E: "Lemme smell it. *sniffs* You're right - it is sticky."

E, playing doctor: "You're all done with your check up, Mommy."
Me: "Thanks, Dr. Elle Belle. Will I be OK?"
E: "Yes. ... Maybe."

Elle checks for my "heart beep." She also diagnosed Wesley with Spittyittotis.

We were talking about going to see fireworks at the beach for Independence Day. I wasn't sure if Elle would be scared or love them, so I was trying to prepare her for the possibility of us not going by telling her that the weather might not be good.
Me: "I wonder what the weather at the beach might be like. It might be windy, or sunny, or rainy, or too sandy."
E: "Or fireworky."

It's going to be a fun one today based on this convo with Elle about a balloon we got at the store yesterday:
E: "Why is my bayyoon not fyoating?"
Me: "Because it takes a special kind of air to blow it up called helium. They sell helium in a tank at the store, and we don't have a helium tank here."
E: "But why is my bayyoon not fyoating?"
Me: "Because we can't just blow it up like other balloons."
E: "Do they have fish at the store?"
Me: ... "Oh! No, not a fish tank, Elle. A different kind of tank with special air in it."

Me: "That's a pretty awesome breakfast."
E: "It IS pretty awesome."

Me: "Please don't argue with me. Do you remember what quarrel means?"
E: "What?"
Me: "To fight or argue."
E: "No!"

Me: "Elle, can I please fix your hair?"
E: "In a minute, honey."

E: "You're just the sweetest Mommy in the world, aren't you?"

E, for the millionth time: "How do monsters burp?"
Tim: "Why do you keep asking that question?"
E: "Because. It's just the way I am."

Wesley and I were putting Elle to bed, and he fell asleep while I read her a few books.
E: "I wanna hold him."
Me: "Why? He's asleep."
E: "But I deserve to!"

Practicing her tummy time.

E: "Mommy, do you see that sun on that stopbus?" (She meant 'bus stop.')

E, watching me itch my leg where I had some bug bites: "Stop scratching! You're going to make it worse."

E: "Daddy, do you know why you're wrong?"
Tim: "Why?
E: "Because you're singing the wrong song."
Tim: "No, I'm not."
E: "Yes, you aren't."

Tim: "Elle, why are you combing your hair with your spoon?"
E: "To make it pretty."