He stands up from his plate of peanut butter sandwich, walks over to me and says...
"Mom, I can’t eat.
I can’t drink.
I can’t do all those things.
I have to go stinkies."
This is the type of conversation I receive during the day. I pity the person who calls me and gets and earful of nothing in general just because I am happy to hear a grown ups voice!
Thursday, January 12, 2006
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