We spent the weekend with the Dorton clan to view the General Conference of our church. After dinner on Sunday, I was playing with the nieces and nephews. The game: Let's pretend Keith is a monster and sneak past him. I lumbered around like an overgrown ape, each niece and nephew skirting by just out of reach.
In the best monster voice I could muster I cried out, "I eat little Dortons!"
Then Erick, like a prince among his subjects, strides past me declaring, "I'm not a little Dorton. I'm a Romero. You can't eat me!"
He showed me.
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