Tonight as I was putting him to bed and telling him I love him, Stewart informed me that he doesn't love me. "I just like you a little," he said.
Then he asked if he could touch my eyebrows and teeth. "Sure," I told him, and exposed my pearly whites.
"Ew, your teeth are gross," he exclaimed, immediately sending me into "the depths of despair" (as Anne Shirley would say), because I was certain it meant that he could see my brown tooth.
One of my teeth is darker than the others and I've been obsessed with it lately, because it's bad enough that I can see it in certain pictures. But when a totally spacey 3 year old who can't even remember to put his pants back on before leaving the bathroom notices your discolored tooth, you know you've reached a whole new level.
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