When I was in second grade Patrick Murphy sat in the desk behind mine in Mrs Robinson’s class. He had red hair, freckles, and a number of brothers and sisters. He spent a lot of time trying to convince me that we were meant to be because my initials were AM and his were PM and together we’d make a whole day.
I was not convinced, but he was not deterred.
Until one day, in an effort to show his affection, he pushed me off the jungle gym at school and I chipped my two front teeth. Poor guy refused to go inside the rest of the day because he was looking for the pieces, and never really spoke to me again.
I was not convinced, but he was not deterred.
Until one day, in an effort to show his affection, he pushed me off the jungle gym at school and I chipped my two front teeth. Poor guy refused to go inside the rest of the day because he was looking for the pieces, and never really spoke to me again.
I thought of that yesterday when I went to the dentist. I love that story, hate the dentist.
(I think this blog post is officially the most random one ever.)
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