Early this week Miguel got up from his breakfast for no apparent reason and went into a monologue at the foot of the dining table.
Let's talk about Mommy Sandy!
(Assuming a booming announcer's voice:)
Mommy Sandy: Talking to her undies.
Mommy Sandy: Always brushing her teeth after breakfast.
Mommy Sandy: Thinks that she is an animal.
Mommy Sandy: Being chased by the police at night.
Mommy Sandy: Forgetting to pass by the bank.
(Bow)
So according to him I am an obbssessive-compulsive animalistic nighttime fugitive with Alzheimer's who talks to her undies. Don't ask me where he got it from. And no, I don't talk to my undies.
