With a headache accompanying her home, Jen said she wasn't feeling up to cooking or wrangling both kids while I made dinner. In our house, that usually means it's time for dinner on the town. We loaded Peanut and Swanny Jr. into the car and headed to our favorite Chinese buffet.
Dinner was relatively uneventful, but the walk back out to the car was worth the trip. Relying on a stereotype that she has no idea exists, Peanut stopped at the car and said, "Daddy it smells like Leia out here."
Surely, I didn't hear her correctly: "What's up honey?"
"It smells like dog out here, daddy."
That's right, outside of the Chinese restaurant it smells like dogs. Well, at least to Peanut. I didn't dare ask her if it just smelled like a dog, or if it was something about the cooked smell that triggered her response. Even if she could answer that question, I'm not what I would do on the off chance that she'd say, "It smells like that time we cooked and ate a dog." (Of course by we, I'm lumping her in with some other strange children).
Either way, maybe Maggie should be watching her back.
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