The kind you’re born with, the kind you choose, the kind that teach Catholic school
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Like the time I was in fourth grade and my hair
reached all the way down to my butt and my mother
said, “Let’s get a trim,” and my cousin Kathy cut
my hair all the way up to my chin, and when my
friend Carol laughed at my “cut” I said it was a
“trim” and she shut up.
Like the time my goldfish Spot died and when I got
home from school and saw his bowl empty my mother sat
me down and said a poor boy had come to the door
and he had no friends or pets so she gave him my fish
because she knew I “wouldn’t mind,” and when I
rode over to Carol’s and she asked what was wrong
I said, “A poor boy has taken my fish,” and she was quiet.