Baby Moose: I'm a little baby, short and stout
Fiftieth percentile just about.
When I drink my bottle I just shout,
"Wait, fiftieth percentile? You've got to be kidding me. I thought I was ninety-fifth percentile. What happened?
Dad: You probably cry off a lot of calories when we put you down for naps.
Baby Moose: Just so that we're clear, I will not sacrifice justice just to gain a few pounds.
Dad: Right. Justice.
Baby Moose: I heard sarcasm in your voice.
Dad: You pipe down with the justice and I'll keep the sarcasm to a minimum.
1 comment:
It's all true. I was privy to this conversation. Words were spoke.
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