I remember it like it was yesterday: My nose was running like a faucet, and the pointy end of a magenta crayon was hanging out of my face.
“Madeline…did you stuff a crayon up your nose?” Mom asked. “Doh,” I said. “No?” Mom replied. “Doh.” But the jig was most certainly up. Off to the doctor’s office I went, but it’s not like little me enjoyed lying. I just had less than no idea how to be a person. (I still don’t, but that’s a different story for a different day.)
And that’s something this little guy knows a thing or two about. When he got a hankering from some sweets one day, he took to a jar of sprinkles with reckless, youthful abandon. But when Mom asked him where they all went, he assured her with the utmost conviction that he had no idea what she was talking about.
The only problem? An incriminating sprinkle-stache.
You tried it, little man. You tried it.
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