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  • Last night, a 5-year-old, obviously already high on sugar, sashays into the chocolate shop with her mom. In one chubby hand is a bag of silver dollar-sized chocolate chip cookies, which she proceeds to count out for me, as she places each on the high glass case displaying the chocolate truffles. She pauses only to eat the cookie that falls to the floor.

    "Five cookies for a 5-year-old," I reply. "You going to share them with your daddy?"

    "I don't have a daddy," she snaps. "Just a sperm daddy."

    For some reason that prompts her to begin belting out "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow," from the Broadway musical, Annie.

    Her mom tries to look put out, but I can tell from the smirk pulling at her lip that her daughter's reply has met with her approval. So, seemingly for my benefit, the stage mom makes a huge eye roll, fastens her hands to her wide hips, and moans, "You see these wrinkles, kid? They're all because of you."

    I clap, delighted at the show.
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