This weekend, you turn 7. Last weekend, I cut some layers into your hair. Thank goodness for that missing tooth or you'd look even older than you already act.
Go. Away. You messed with my Christmas plans and you make everyone nervous. No one likes you.
I need to apologize. I used to believe it wasn't "real reading" unless you were holding a book in your hands. But, I have seen the error in my ways. I can "read" now and hold all the things in my hands! I'm sorry.
Why you so expensive? Is there a black market for yarn? Can someone help a sista out?
Come on in. Make yourself comfy. No one will bother you as long as you don't bother us...k?