Henry just came home from work with Wendy’s.
“Do you want this Frosty?” he asked.
“Uh, no,” I said snottily, because I often speak to him like I’m his sixteen-year-old daughter.
“I bought an extra one just so you wouldn’t scream YOU BOUGHT CHOOCH ONE AND NOT ME!” Henry mimicked.
He knows me so well, it’s sickening.