Jen’s perfect view from across the table at The Sunny Street Cafe on Mother’s Day.

Trey and I are squabbling about the immediate purchase of fancy floor mats for the new car Trey finally acquired.  Yes, we finally bid farewell to the beloved Honda (or “ring-did-a-ling-ding-ding-ding-ding-da” as Trey more fondly referred to her) last night.  In the midst of our bickering, he announces that he will retreat to the garage to insert the (gasp) non-matching grey mats from the Honda into the new wheels.  On his way out, Brynn announces, “I poopy diaper.”
Trey: “That’s all yours; I’ll be in the garage.”
Jen: “TREY!”
Brynn: “Trey!”
Trey (before leaving for the garage): “Brynn, my name is not Trey; it is Daddy.”
Brynn (as Daddy reenters the house): “I poopy diaper, Trey!”

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