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When my daughter was 4 we lived in a warehouse which was  next door to  my dad’s house. My daughter would walk across the driveway to have breakfast with him.

One morning after he made the 4 year old her cream of wheat, being a very personable guy, he attempted to have a chat with her. She put down her spoon and looked at him.

“Pop Pop, I came for breakfast. NOT for conversation.”

And with that she picked up her spoon and went back to the cream of wheat.

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