Our bestest hippie mom friend, the one who is mellow and interesting and funny and self-aware, baked a cornmeal birthday cake for her son tonight when she discovered, a little too late, that she was out of flour. It was good in a "reflecting back on the kind of food I could have easily eaten when I was a child" kind of a way. Or maybe in a "
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Also dance shops may rent little boy tuxes for performances.
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