The Talker, as he walked into the kitchen, from playing in the backyard: "Look Daddy, I got the dog poop off of my feet."
"Well that's good," I said, not wanting to know any more details.
As I lifted him into the kitchen sink: "Let's wash your feet. Don't want any poop on them."
"Yeah, and we better wash my hands, too."
12 years ago
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