I hot dog you, too.

In the vein of my cousin Bridget, let me relate to you, Gentle Reader, a scene from this evening. I teased Robert before dinner that if he'd tell me he loved me that I'd make him a hot dog for dinner. Being his typically 2-year-old self, he giggled and refused to say it. Later, after dinner, he ran up to me, threw his arms around my leg and sincerely declared, "I hot dog you, Mama. I hot dog you."