When I was really small, probably around the age of 3 or 4, my father left the house early one Saturday morning to go hunting. On the kitchen counter, he left a note for my mother that read something along the lines of this:
"Dear Ann,
I'm heading to the cabin to go hunting. I'll be back later this afternoon or early this evening; would you like to have dinner tonight?
Love, Butch
Ps. Do you think Allison needs drugs?"
From those words, I'm sure you can infer that I was, as they liked to call it back in the 70's before the onset of labels such as ADHD, hyperactive.
Therefore, I'm asking all of you to pray that Bebe inherits my fantastic skin and Matty's calm, controlled, logical demeanor. If it's the other way around, we're in for a world of hurt.
Not that he doesn't have great skin - I mean, he is Greek - but mine is really smooth and by far my best feature...
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