This morning, our intrepid Danger Monkey (age 9) escorted the steaming platter of pancakes to the breakfast table, loudly humming the Imperial March.
My day has been made.
This morning, our intrepid Danger Monkey (age 9) escorted the steaming platter of pancakes to the breakfast table, loudly humming the Imperial March.
My day has been made.
Danger Monkey, age 9: “When I grow up, I want to be 5’9″ and no more.”
Me: “That’s very… specific. Any reason why?”
DM: “I read that’s the average height of a High Elf.”
Me: “I support this.”
The world needs to know that I just got soundly beaten at Memory by my five year old daughter. I’m no slouch memory-wise, and I was not letting her win. I’m a little embarrassed and a lot proud. The Force is strong with this one.