I think I'm in for it.

Me: Lena, it's time to brush teeth. Come on.
Lena: No. I'm still sulking.

It's what's for dinner.

True.

Lena, as we're driving down our hill to preschool: Bye bye, top! We're going to bottom.

What fever?

Lena got sent home from preschool today with a 100.4 degree fever.

Me, watching Lena be totally silly and hilarious: She's sick?
Lena: I'm not sick, I'm funny!

I must be doing something right.

Lena, stomping feet and yelling: Ouuutttt!
Me: Lena, what's wrong? What do you want?
Lena: I want to go outside and make a barbecue with Daddy.

(that's my girl.) 

It's in her blood.

Lena, having eaten almost nothing at dinner: I want to get out [of her booster seat].
Me: Ok, if you take three more bites, you can get out.
Lena: Um... how 'bout one bite?
Me: No. Three bites.
Lena: How 'bout two bites?
Me: No. Three.
Lena: Two bites? (implied: final offer before tantrum)
Me: I've been doing this longer than you. Three.

Lena is going to be so bummed when she finds out she's not the center of the universe.

Greg: I'm going outside.
Lena: No! That's MY outside!

I swear I didn't teach her this.

Lena: I'm a pirate. Aargh!
Me: You're a pirate?
Lena: I'm a baby pirate. (In a tiny, high-pitched, baby voice) Aargh!