Sweet B, going on four, told me yesterday by iChat that she likes goat cheese. “Oh, that’s so yucky!” I shouted. “No, M,” she hollered back gleefully, “you’re wrong!” So my grandchild is an argumentative goat-cheese lover. What did I do to deserve this? (We did agree that cheddar is good, especially with apples, and the whole conversation, of course, was carried on in laughter with many funny faces, as she ate—and used as props—not only some cheddar and apple, but a banana, too.) Her mother, another goat-cheeser (god, it’s hard to live in this family sometimes), put her up to this, of course, and signed off right after a ticklefest based on the different tummy locations of all recently ingested material.
My goatees.
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