The children and I were in the van today when Emma Grace spotted a dump truck.
“Look at the dump truck!”
“Yes,” I said, “it sure is dirty, isn’t it?
“It’s dusty,” she said. “Dusty and busty.”
“Dusty,” Everett said. “Busty isn’t a word.”
I didn’t say anything, but I laughed. No, for him, “busty” isn’t anything. Not yet.
