I’m speaking about my 7 year-old daughter, Regan. I don’t write about my family too often in anything more than passing, but I’m afraid this is the first of way too many stories about the girl. There are plenty of others that have not been fit to share, but I thought this one had enough humor to be worth the chance at embarrassment.
My wife took the kids to Cracker Barrel for brunch today after running around most of the morning. I don’t know if you’ve been to a Cracker Barrel (I don’t blame you if you haven’t - I can’t stand the place), but they have a big “general store” attached to the restaurant that serves as a waiting room and cashier station among other things. Of course these stores have mountains of useless crap to sell, like Billy-Bob teeth and rebel flag throws.
Dawn and the kids browsed the store before being seated for brunch. While doing so she noticed a toy parrot that would repeat whatever you said. It was cute.
After the meal while Dawn paid the bill at the counter the kids browsed the store again. Not too long after turning them loose she hears the goofy parrot room from across the room, “I smell like poooooop. I smell like pooooooop.” This was soon followed by: “Leave me alone, fatty. Leave me alone, fatty.”
I’ll give you three guesses who the culprit was. Of course I laughed hilariously upon hearing the story from my poor wife. There was a similar story from two weeks ago that involved Dawn in a dressing room rather than being preoccupied by a cashier and involved Regan and a rounder of bras rather than a toy parrot. I’m sure you can imagine.
I told you, there is something wrong with the girl.