After the movie last night – “That’s it! We’re one Michael Moore movie away from moving to Canada.”
When we picked Ella up – “She drew a picture of you walking to the post office... with dog poop on your shoe.”
From the backseat of the car – “Mom, we need to get a real baby brother. I don’t want Arthur to be imaginary anymore.”
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today i walked past a bunch of high schoolers who are on campus for the week for cheerleading camp, just in time to hear one of them say, "i had to comb my butt hairs."
somehow, it made me happy.
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