Soon, my pretty. SOON.
Mama: Don't even think about playing with those ornaments, young lady!
Zoey: (nonchalant) Orna-what? Are you referring to that shiny, sparkly object I was just looking at? Oh mother, PUH-LEESE! I'm 19 months old, don't treat me like I'm a silly little child! (When Mama leaves the room, you are MINE!)