My son (youngest) stomped up to my wife, his bottom lip could have been a landing strip for Air Force One, “Mommy,” he whined, “She called me a tattle-tale-r”
Hiding a grin, my wife called out for my daughter (oldest) to come.
“But he IS!” was her reply.
“I know! Get in here anyway!”
When my daughter finally made an entrance, Christi explained that she shouldn’t call her brother names.
“But he IS!” she sighed.
“I know, but don’t call him names.”
