Yesterday I asked Payne if he needed a fresh diaper and responded with "My biper has POOP!". Thank you, sir.
He wanted me to play "goff" with him last night, and handed me a "cub", but every time I tried to hit the ball he'd scoot around me and say "My turn!". Punk.
He was helping me dust and I (obviously) wouldn't let him spray the pledge, so he grabbed a little person airplane pilot, shook him violently while going "Ssssss!" and then rubbed the spot with his rag that he had juiced the poor pilot onto.