As I was leaving the YMCA the other day, I passed a grandmother holding the hand of a small child. The duo paused in front of a sign and the grandmother read it aloud in heavily accented English: “Oh, there’s a fahzr-dawtah dance tomorrow. Do you sink you vill go wis your fahzr?”
The child tugged at her hand and matter-of-factly responded, “I can’t go. I’m a booooy.”
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