“Tristi, could you cut that picture of Orlando Bloom out for me?” I asked my niece.
She turned her face toward me in utter disgust.
“Why?”
“Maybe I want to put it in my room.”
“Auntie Nina!” She exclaimed in her high-pitched voice. She’s barely eight and she put her hands on her hips and stared me down. “I know what you’re going to do with it. That’s so GROSS! You are very bad!”
Busted.
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