Enter Gavin, who says, "Ew Mom. Your foot is as gross as Aeriale's sunburn."
Before I can open my mouth to give a snarky reply, Gavin smirks and says, "Simile, Aeriale, simile!" and promptly climbs up the stairs. Singing. About gross things.
My brother is going to be a literary freak someday if he can sit still for two seconds. I just know it.
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