One day a couple years ago, I was doing just that, sitting on my throne in the bathroom, aka the library. My Mr6 (then a Mr4) knocks on the door.
He tries to turn the knob.
Locked.
"Gammaaaa, I want to tell you something."
I frown.
I ignore him.
He then passes a note to me under the door.
As a teacher, I was just thrilled and proud to see my Mr4 learning to write on his little notepad.
As a Nan, I was, well, just tickled.
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2 comments:
Would you mind if I passed you a note on a cocktail napkin?
Hi Jill & Deb,
Thanks for popping over. Cocktail napkin? Sure, as long as it comes with a Long-Island Ice Tea! After dealing with Mr6, I NEED a drink!
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