She’s Eighteen

And all I can think at lunch is:

That’s my sweater.

Sheepish grin. We’ve been here before.

“You never wear it.”

It’s never in my closet!

“Yes it is. That’s where I found it.”

Happy Birthday, Kate – Bait. Stay out of my closet and you can have this one sweater. And the Voyager phone. And the ski trip. And whatever else you can con us out of.

I loveth you.

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