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As seen in the New York Times

Aletheia keeps referring to guacamole as “broccamole.” Millennials ruin everything.

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Artisting all the time

Aletheia: “When I grow up, I’m going to be an artist. I will artist every day and every night. I’ll be artisting all the time.”

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It was pretend, dear reader

Me: Aletheia, what are you doing?

Aletheia, from another room: Putting marinara sauce on my booty.

Me: (Please be pretend. Please be pretend.)

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Assessment in action

Aletheia just walked up to me with a pad and pen and said “Daddy, I need to chart what you are doing.”

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Pancakes and books

Aletheia and I are home today, so I let her set our schedule. So we are going to:

  • Watch a movie
  • Go to the beach
  • Go to the library to get a book
  • Get pancakes
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The horror, the horror

Aletheia: Daddy, you need to get up. Amiens took off his diaper.

Me: Ok, I’m getting up. [you know what’s coming]

Me: Aletheia, did Amiens poop in his diaper?

Aletheia: Yeah.

And the way that she said “yeah” portrayed exactly the mix of resignation and horror that I was feeling at the moment.

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They’re just friends

Aletheia: Daddy, come meet Birdie.

Me: Who’s Birdie?

Aletheia: She’s a girl who’s attached to a boy.

Me: That sounds terrible.

Aletheia: No, no, no. They’re just friends.

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That’s one way to get out of school

Aletheia: I don’t want to go.

Me: Neither did the Doctor, but he still had to regenerate.

Aletheia: [blank stare]

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Aletheia: Why isn’t mommy eating dinner with us tonight?

Me: Because she’s at a restaurant watching the Carolina-Dook game.

Aletheia: Yeah, we don’t like Dook.

Amiens: Caaaaaaaaat!

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Aletheia: You know, daddy, some days we are fairies and some days we are not.