The big difference is my grandma. I love my grandma. Everyone loves my grandma.
She was waiting for us in the driveway as she always did. She always knew when someone was coming.
“Is Charlie driving now?” “He turned sixteen yesterday.” “Oh.”
My grandma is very old, and she doesn’t remember things a lot, but she bakes the most delicious cookies.
When I was very little, we had my mom’s mom, who always had candy, and my dad’s mom, who always had cookies.
My mom told me that when I was little, I called them “Candy Grandma” and “Cookies Grandma.”
I also called pizza crust “pizza bones.” I don’t know why I’m telling you this.
It’s like my very first memory, which I guess is the first time I was aware that I was alive.
My mom and my Aunt Helen took me to the zoo. I think I was three. I don’t remember that part.
Anyway, we were watching these two cows. A mother cow and its baby calf.
And they didn’t have a lot of room to walk around. Anyway, the baby calf was standing right underneath its mother,
just kind of walking around, and the mother cow took a “dump” on the baby calf’s head.
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