Ty and I were outside after dark, looking up at the night sky. I picked him up and started singing, "God made the moon and God made me..." He then stretched his little arm up as high as it could go and said, "Momma, shrow (all t's come out with the sh sound right now) me up high so I can touch the moon."
So, I humored him for a moment, tossing him in the air.
"No, Momma! I still can't touch it."
"Baby, the moon is so high, I could never throw you that far. I'm not big enough."
Simple answer to give a two year old, who gages everything on his size.
"Dat's okay, Momma. Just go get a stool."
And he points towards our house with a look on his face, as if he were stating the obvious.