Corban ran out the front door today when he was supposed to head for the kitchen. I followed after him and convinced him to come back without a fight. He was slipping under my arm as I held the screen door open and stalled long enough to look at the older kids playing on their skateboards. (There is a cul-de-sac almost in front of our house and there are always kids playing in the middle of the street.)
Then he blurts out, "looking good, guys!" as he runs up the stairs.
He is so random sometimes.