Moving Out

Isabella (she’s 6): Daddy, will I ever move out of this house.

Me: Yes, Honey. Someday.

Iz (slightly panicked): When, Daddy?

Me: Don’t worry, Puppy. Not anytime soon. You’re good.

Iz: But, at some time I’ll have to leave, right.

Me: Sweetie… Please don’t worry about this. You’re 6. You have your whole life ahead of you.

Iz (flashing her devilish grin): Yeah… But… You don’t.

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