The Bulldog

I normally don't blog every day, let alone twice in one day-- but this deserves another post.

Ellie and I were at Walmart (which is another story altogether, those who know me know that I LOATHE that place)... we were in the milk section, and a lady comes up who looks to be about 40-ish. Not even a gray hair on her head. Ellie loudly declares: "Mommy, that's not my Grandma."

I could see where this was going. Either the lady didn't hear or she ignored it. I quickly tried to avert Ellie's attention elsewhere. "Look, Ellie, what kind of milk should we buy?"

But like a pit bull with its jaws around its victim's neck, she wasn't letting it go.

"That's not my grandma," she loudly repeated. "It's another Grandma!"