When my middle daughter turned six, we took her and some friends to the circus for her birthday.
Before the show, we ordered six Happy Meals from McDonald’s. The cashier asked me each time, “Is this for a boy or a girl?”
For a girl. All girls. Six—yes, six—girls.
When we finally filled up every cup, unwrapped all the straws, and handed around the food, the manager popped around the corner to see us. “Six girls! Shew. I just had to see all six of them.”
We assured him only three belonged to us.
After each act, though, my brand new six-year-old shot all the way across six seats to climb into her Daddy’s lap.
She was scared. Every time the…
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