I'm not quite sure why, but the "almost teen" stormed upstairs into his room and slammed the door. Um... Okay... So, I went and asked him what the hell his problem was... He called me a doofus and asked that I leave him alone for the rest of his life.
What did I do this time you ask? Apparently, I bought the wrong kind of cheese... Really? I'd hate to see what would have happened if I came home with the wrong brand of soap...
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