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Portate bien, vos.

February 24, 2009

I have a brother, as many of you are aware, named Pepetonio. Somewhere along the way, and certainly without any influence from The Boy and I, he has developed into kind of a smart aleck. Recent offerings from the eleven-year-old:

Last night, after the girl down the street had rung the doorbell three times during Sunday dinner (supposedly to “see the pigeons”, but we all knew who she was there to see):

“Why don’t you just tell her to come back later – like when I’m on my mission.”

Some time last week, to Marie:

“Marie, my abs are Ford Tough (he does indeed have a six-pack), and yours are more like a Honda. “

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