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I hate grocery shopping.

Someone had to teach you how to eat pizza, or maybe you figured out on your own. Elliott just asked for some, and I let him have a piece. He ate it sideways and picked each topping off to eat individually. I cannot wrap my head around how much I love him. And I understand how kids get spoiled. I let him walk all over me most of the time. I don't understand telling him no if it doesn't hurt anything.
"That's bacons."
"Yes, honey. That's bacon."
"That's ham."
"Yes, honey. That's ham."
"Pizza. Arrrhhmm."
I drew every color of train. When I have to draw Thomas, he always looks like a dildo with wheels. I can't wait for Thomas to die. The trains can stay.
What will you do with this prebuilt son?

7:25 a.m. - 2013-01-19


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