Scenes from the move

After a long day of moving, I sat down among the boxes on the couch, opened a Vault, and turned on the TV. "Enemy at the Gates" was on HBO. Gracie landed beside me and said, "I hope this is appropriate for me."

In the car, headed back from the dump, we stopped off for Slush Puppies. I slurped one sip too far, got a brain freeze. "Ouch!" "What's wrong, Daddy?" "Brain freeze." **blow, blow, blow** A warm, slighly damp hand grabs my forehead. "It's OK, Daddy, I'll warm it up."

Using a broom is not intuitive for a 6 year old. I asked Gracie to sweep off the walk after I mowed. I turned around to see her doing her best ninja warrior impression with the broom as she tried to bludgeon the grass off the walk.

Gracie does not like ants. I sent her to sweep under the table with a hand broom and dustpan. **Sweep, sweep, sweep... WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK** "What was that, Gracie?" "There was a ant, and I had to squish it." Gracie thinks squish=terminate with extreme prejudice.

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