Hanging out with kids has its perks. Yes, they appreciate flatulence in a way we're no longer allowed to, but there's so much more than just that. The more we know, the more we ebb out to the regrettable realm of the known. No alarms. No surprises. Suicide is some awful term that refers to some even worse act. But when you're a feral moppet devouring every second until your next chance to botch a cartwheel, every term you've never heard is synonymous with love.
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