Caviar? Grey Poupon? Check and check.

Caviar? Grey Poupon? Check and check.
I went to bed three hours ago.
Fruit salad. Yummy, yummy.
The master is tapping my arm, he must want food.
I stopped telling those people in the hopes that they’ll understand.
It’s about making progress.
There aren’t too many prodigy doctor shows about kids like him.
I can’t imagine scrolling menus just to say, “I. Am. Angry.”
He has choices now. I made the effort to find his outlet.
I’m no longer putting all his eggs in one silent basket.
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