- Me: I'm just worried about my kid having arthritis like me. [Rolls over, my back to Hilo]
- Him: Not if I have anything to do with it.
- Me: (♥! ___)) ミ((♡ ε ♡ ) Oh, reaaaaaallly?
Now if I lived in my land, which I do,
I’d still have Chinese children.
(Give it a second, bro!)
Guacamole tastes like grass.
My throat gets scratchy and I begin to yawn a lot when I read aloud.
I fall asleep when I have to grind out levels on video games.
Sleeping on the floor makes me ache all over the next day.
Thinking that I won’t be in Missouri in less than two months terrifies me beyond words.
I’m skeptical about tea’s potential “tasty” factor.
I hate artificial sweeteners.
My Dad says to not date Asians because you never know what the crazy oriental genes might do to your offspring.
I’m still going to learn the delicate art of creating award-winning Guacamole.
Reading to you is soothing, and I like listening to a story together.
You help to keep me awake with your silliness.
It was the only way we could talk on Skype, and I would’ve been more sore the next day if I hadn’t fallen asleep to your voice (even if I HAD slept on my bed).
Thinking about NOT taking this chance and leaving Missouri terrifies me more.
Give me that peach tea. With milk and real sugar, okay?
Let’s try Stevia, my little Splendalump.
Our offspring might be crazy, but it’ll be cute to look at. Plus, I hope he gets your craziness. Bona fide Lady Killer.