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How her brain knows to make that unholy huffing sound at the precise instant my mouth opens.
If, after all that texting, she still technically has fingerprints.
How she thinks I can’t see her Facebook page.
How her phone hasn’t melted into a pile of text messaging goo.
Why helping her “learn to find herself and be original” means dropping her off at Hollister.
How she can make out with a tear-out poster of Zayn Malik with her door open, but CANNOT HAVE A SEX TALK WITH MOOOOOOOOOM.
How she has more mood swings in a day than I did during pregnancy. WHICH IS A LOT, MISSY.
What that f***ing look means.
If she really thinks YOLO is an appropriate thing to shout out at church.