Colby just told me that my loving firstborn son said this about the upcoming, homemade meal: "I hope the chicken potpie doesn't turn out so we can go out to eat." This is what I get for preparing a time consuming meal, ordered especially by my husband, and prepared with my own two hands.
So, we ate the potpie. Brody cried the whole time. He said that if potpie was his wife he'd kill it. Nice. We've started a collection for bail money. Everyone else ate potpie and even liked it.
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