My friend, who for years was a professional Santa Claus, was walking down a store aisle one day when a little boy walked over to him and patted his tummy. “Baby?” the little one asked.
“No, son,” my friend replied, smiling, “pancakes.”
copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.
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Sometimes I feel that way also, although it is not pancakes. It can be many other things, but not pancakes.
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