Confused malcontents swilling Chardonnay while awaiting the Zombie Apocalypse.
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In mid-summer, I see people wearing coats and jackets. Just observing makes me feel uncomfortable. Aged 3.5, our skinny daughter was fond of clothes. She could not decide which was best to wear. Once we counted 6 layers. Another time we counted 14 layers (mid-summer). She still did not look jumbo.
We tried to limit her consumption of fruit juice unless she had water to help dilute due to the sugar content damaging toddler enamel.
One hot day, I could not refuse her a carton of apple juice. Upon arrival home, I told her not to tell mummy. She ran indoors and squealed: "Mamma. mamma. Pappa bought me juicy and threw it in the bin and said: "Don't tell mamma."
You raised a traitor!!
I told her she does not need to tell mamma everything. She replied she must.
Aged 4, her room resembled a war-zone but not so tidy. In vain, I begged for a narrow pathway from the door to the window.
Anyway, I tidied-up the room. She returned and sh@t me out: "Pappa, my doll must be here not there. My dress must be there, not here. My shoes must be here, not there" ... etc. To test her reaction, I rhetorically asked: "How come Daddy is so stupid" ? she said: "Because you learned nothing at school".
I am loving your daughter!
When the kids were younger, they went around the house wearing trendy but empty back-packs like Dora the explorer animation character
I got bashed for copying them. When she was 2.5, I returned from working abroad for 5 weeks. She met me at the airport and told me not to cry. She did not realize I was overwhelmed and happy to see her.
Aged about 9, one pitch black evening, she looked out the window, saw nothing but described in detail a murder that happened next door, years before she was born.
OK, that last bit is creepy.
Aged about 5 or 6, one evening in bed, she saw a small black scruffy dog in the passageway. That dog had died long before our daughter was lusted into existence.