When we were on the road to Chicago, we stopped at Bob Evans for lunch. Bobby really didn't want to go there, but he perked up when he was told he could have "Pizza Pizzazz". He got a fruit cup with that, and promptly ate all of the canteloupe (his favorite) out of it. He then stood up in the booth, peered around the dining room and yelled out, "Does anyone have anymore canteloupe?"
Do you want cheese with that whine?
I didn't realize that, along with every contagious disease that comes down the pike, that I would also catch the dreaded scourge of whining. I was at the doctor's office yesterday, loaded down with sweet little baby, when the receptionist handed me a three page document to fill out. "Do I have to do it now?" I whined.
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