Jackson: Aw, dane-it! I got for my shoes!
Mom: You what?
Jackson: I got for my shoes!
Mom: You got for your shoes?
Jackson: See, I got for my shoes. Dey are at home.
Mom: Oooohhh. You mean you FOR-GOT your shoes.
* * * * * * * *
Jackson is helping me load the groceries from the conveyor belt and into the car. He spies a treat he likes and says, "I nike those rocket chips!"
Mom: You like rocket ships?
Jackson: No, I say rocket CHIPS.
Mom: Rocket chips?
Jackson: See, dose rocket chips. [Pointing to the flamin' hot cheetos] Dey so spicy.