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“I’m in a bad mood!” you grumped, as you sat on the edge of my bed, trying to de-tangle your hair.
“Is it clinging together again?” I asked, sympathetically.
You looked at me and stuck out your lower lip in lieu of response.

“I’m a bit sad” you mumbled “because of Thundercat not coming home last night”
“He’s done it before” I soothed. “I am sure he’ll be back soon, when he’s ready”
“I know” you said. “I know.”

“I’m so pleased!” you exclaim, as we walk from the salon, into the cold winter air. “I love it!”
“It looks great” I agree. “No more tangles and VERY grown up.”
“Very” you say, contented, and thread your arm through mine.