More than not, it’s the off guard, unpredictably random, who-woulda-ever… can’t-make-this-up moments that fling me flat on my face, 117 million feet into the ground, inlove, than last time… again.

At the kitchen table this morning:  

me: “Hey, what are you drinking?”

Violet: “Cherry juice. Want some?”

me: “Don’t you mean cranberry juice?”

Violet: “No, cherry juice. Do you want me to pour you a glass?”

me: “When did you get cherry juice?”

Violet: “When I got all of that cranberry juice.”

In unison: “They were on sale!”

Violet: “Oh, you remember?!? You’re sweet.”

 

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