Charlie was upstairs, supposedly in bed trying to sleep. Emily and I were downstairs, watching TV. Just now we heard her running busily about and then a loud crashing noise. Emily yelled upstairs, "Charlie, what are you doing
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Charlie is almost 5. And no, I didn't paint my toenails any color. And I never got out of bed - except to possibly turn my Disney read-along records over. Did you have those? Tinkerbell would wave her magic wand and it would make a little bell-sound when it was time to turn the page. I loved those. I loved my room. Mom and Dad learned that, when I was in trouble (which was rare because, honestly, I was rather well-behaved), they would have to send me outside in order to punish me. I loved being sent to my room.
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How old is Charlie again...? Were you, by any chance, painting your toenails blue at her age?
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Ooh, a Mad Men image - I'm getting season 4, but won't be watching it until they air the last episode next week.
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