Me: Beaumont. What are you doing?
Beau: Helping my dad type a text.
Me: You can’t type.
Beau: Says who?
Me: Well…. keyboards are designed for fingers not paws.
Beau: Details. Schmetails. I can still help.
Me: You mean interfere.
Beau: You say interfere. I say helping.
Me: I say ‘get off the couch’.
Beau: My dad says I can stay. I’m staying.
Sigh. Seriously? Why do I feel like with these two I’m never going to win?
They’re incorrigible.
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