On the sweetness of Mormon life.You come home to your wife leaning against the kitchen counter.  She is watching your 2-year old.  The 2-year old is putting away the silverware from the dishwasher.  “Das a knife!” she sings to herself, and fussily lays it in the knife drawer.  (I hasten to add, for all you social workers and others of that ilk, it was a butter knife).  “Das a foke!” she sings to herself.

Your wife smiles at you.  “Her new job is putting away the silverware,” your wife says.

You kiss your wife as hard as you can, then squeeze your little worker.

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