"I got see that."
"I got look."
"Let me see!"
Rory never believes us. There’s no more, we say, as in no more chips
in the bowl or no more tea in the pot. No yogurt in the fridge. No
She never, ever takes our word for it. She trusts us in every other
way: dress her, lift her down from the counter, jump into our arms
from a brick wall, but she is eternally convinced that we might be
lying about that one thing.
I don’t think it’s really about trust, I don’t think it’s about food.
I think it’s just a Rory thing.
sent from my iPhone