Last Friday, en route to the mall with Daddy:
Daddy: Your mother says she needs some tops. She's got black pants, brown pants, and white pants, and she needs some tops. She says NO black. She's tired of black. She says I buy her black all the time.
Me: OK, got it. No black.
[We shop. We argue—about the black-and-white print blouse, the black-and-white striped shirt, and the charcoal number Daddy gravitates to. We agree on four colorful choices and leave the mall quite pleased with ourselves.]
Phone call with Mama yesterday afternoon:
Mama: You busy early next week?
Me: No, why?
Mama: I've got some tops I need to take back.
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