Yesterday I picked George up a personal pan pizza while we were out doing errands. I took a slice out and let it cool on top of the box on his lap. After about 5 minutes or so I called back to him, "I think you can try to take a bite out of it now." He scruched up his face at the steam that was still rising off it in the cold car and said, "Mom, I can't. It's still spitting smoke!"
I have a sebaceous cyst on my thigh that I am under strict doctor's orders to soak in a hot tub daily. That, along with a strong antibiotic ointment seems to be working. Tonight as I sat in the water he barged in to the bathroom and said in an excited voice, "Mommy don't worry if your assist doesn't soak off, I will pray it off!"
"What comes after a trillion?" "I'm going to ask Luke!"
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