Matilda: Do I have to?
[Robin nods fervently]
Matilda: Tch, so demanding.
Robin: You’ve gots glitter on your eyes.
Matilda: I do.
Robin: I like it.
Matilda: Ah, you’re just tryna butter me up.
Robin: Papa tells me off when I eat butter with my fingies.
Matilda: Well, papa’s a hypocrite.
Robin: What’s that?
Matilda: [snorts] Doesn’t matter-.. where’s papa hiding, anyway?
Robin: In the bafroom, he’s not pooping though.
Matilda: I don’t believe you.
Robin: He’s not, I can tell!
Matilda: How can-.. what’re you doing?
Robin: I gots to go.
Matilda: Go where?
Robin: To mama!
Ivan: Don’t run too fast, bud!
[Robin clearly ignores Ivan, tottering off as fast as his little legs can carry him]
Matilda: He’s running away from you n’ your stink.
Ivan: Oi, I ain’t even touched that pond yet.
Matilda: We’re supposed to be clearing it out.
Ivan: [whispers] I reckon we oughta make Sam n’ Bruno do it…
