Actually, no.

C. {banging on railing of crib}:  I play my organ.

M.:  Are you making music?

C.:  No.  Need batteries.

Oh, so that's what it takes for it to sink in.

M. {frustrated after a post-timeout talk}:  P., I love you.

P. {perking up}:  I know that!

M.:  How do you know that?

P.:  You told me that a million times!

Not in a position to disagree.

C.:  Nacka!

M.:  What does that mean?  I don't know that word.

C.:  It's Spanish.