I picked Leo up from preschool today, and although it’s a pretty nice day, I hadn’t rolled down the windows or turned on any air.  After about two minutes of me asking her what she had done at preschool, she cut me short and said, “Dad, I’m freaking hot in here.” [Emphasis on freaking].  At least we already know what one of Marissa’s legacies to her children will be – let’ just call it the ability to speak in rich and vibrant language.

I couldn’t help but laugh.  It was a little hot in there, but I asked her if she was just hot or actually freaking hot. She confirmed, and I can attest, that she was indeed freaking hot. And then she told me to “kick down, whiteboy” . . . .