Someday, Jackson, you will no longer say "I not like this" when you aren't enjoying something. You won't say "bulls-dozers" or "hot diggedy da dog!" or "Auntie Gemmeth." And sadly, you won't say "It's mines" when I ask, "Whose juice is this?" You'll ask us for the keys to the Subaru, not the Su-bee-do. And you won't remember that you used to call them bluebeddies.
I love you. You make me smile with the things you say.