Moomin in the truck as we listen to Chopin preludes: Mama, I wike this music.
Me: Me too. It makes me think of beautiful things.
Moomin: Yeah. Wike swans walking on the piano keys.
Me: *choking up at the thought that my son is a tiny little proto-poet* Yes, honey, it is rather like swans walking gracefully on the piano keys.
Moomin: (dreamily) Yeah. (pause) And I would FIGHT them with my sword, fight fight fight, and I would tell those swans GET OFF DA PIANO, pshoo, pshoo, PSHOO! *fires imaginary laser blaster in wild excitement*
Me: Um... heh.
I can see where this is going. In preschool he will be get up to "share" during circle time.
Teacher: Moomin, do you have something to tell the class for sharing time?
Imaginary Moomin: *bashfully* I wike kittens.
Teacher: Oh really? That's nice. What do you like about them?
Imaginary Moomin: *whispering* I wike dem.
Teacher: Speak up please, we can't hear you.
Imaginary Moomin in loud demon-growl voice: I WIKE TO DWINK DEYR BWOOD!