We’ll get back to this.
I talk to my son for like… fifty hours a day. He has a very limited vocabulary at the moment (mostly mama, dada, cat, and book, with valiant attempts at ball and nose and towers), so I have elaborated his responses below based on my expert interpretation of his minutest facial expressions.
This is the first in a series, I’m sure.
“Mother, what is that you are doing?”
“Why, this is called cleaning, son.”
“Mother, when may I begin cleaning?”
“Look, son. Everything the light touches is our kingdom. One day, when you are old enough to clean, the sun will set on my time here and will rise with you as the new king…”
“What’s that? What’s that? What’s that?”
“How about I tell you once and you remember this time?”
“Yes, I understand everything perfectly.”
“MOM! MOM! MOM!”
“I am here, son. But why did you summon me?”
“I missed your beautiful face.”
“It is 3 a.m.”
“Yes, but you really are that gorgeous.”
“MOMMMM! May I have a bite of your food?”
“No son, this is not good for you. It is called a Dorito and it is trash.”
“Then why are you eating it, Mother?”
“Because I am an adult and I can do whatever I want.”
“Mother, everything you’ve made me is delicious and I look forward to eating with no complaint.”
“Why thank you, son.”
“Mother, the plot of this book is ludicrous and Dr. Seuss never saw a horse in his life.”
“I agree wholeheartedly.”
“Will you please read me the latest Kameron Hurley instead?”
“Gladly, son.”
“This game is so much fun!”
“I am glad you are enjoying it.”
“Let’s do it three hundred more times!”
“Let’s not.”
“Mother! Let’s watch another episode of Xena: Warrior Princess!”
“That is a fantastic idea, son. Let’s!”
Samantha Mills 
Towers?
Yeeeeesss. Every time I build something with his blocks he knocks it down and I exclaim, “Oh no, my towers!” And now he is mocking me with my own words.