Last night as I tucked my 7 year old into bed, she said, “Good night, Mommy. I love you. Don’t eat my flesh.”
I paused. “Wait,” I said, “did you just tell me not to eat your flesh?”
She said, “Yes. You know, because you’re a zombie.”
So apparently my kid thinks I’m a soulless, flesh-eating corpse. And with that, I wish you a happy Monday.