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Little Timmy has this habit of asking questions that make me question my own existence. The other day, he found my high school yearbook and asked, "Why do you look so different in these pictures?" I panicked and tried to explain the concept of aging, saying, "Well, Timmy, that's the magical power of growing up. We start as cute little cupcakes and end up as wrinkled raisins." He squinted at me and said, "So, you're like a reverse Benjamin Button?" I should've just said, "Timmy, I'm not aging; I'm just collecting bonus experience points for the game of life!
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You ever notice how kids ask the most profound questions? I was babysitting my nephew, Little Timmy, the other day, and out of nowhere, he looks up at me with those innocent eyes and goes, "Why is the sky blue?" Now, I'm not a scientist, but I tried my best to explain it to him. I said, "Well, Timmy, it's like a giant canvas, and the universe decided to paint it blue because, you know, blue is a fantastic color!" And he just stared at me like I was the most ridiculous person on the planet. I realized I should've just told him, "It's blue because it's too shy to be purple.
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Kids these days are like tiny philosophers. Little Timmy dropped another bomb on me the other day. He goes, "Why do we park on driveways and drive on parkways?" I swear, I was stumped. I felt like Socrates facing the Oracle at Delphi. So, I told Timmy, "Well, that's just the English language messing with our minds. It's their way of keeping us on our toes, or should I say, on our wheels!" He gave me that look again, like I was some sort of linguistic jester. I should've just said, "Timmy, it's because adults like to keep life interesting – you never know where you'll park next!
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Little Timmy is a tiny existentialist. The other night, he came to me with wide eyes and said, "If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth, beeth?" I swear, Timmy's questioning the very fabric of the English language. I tried to give him a logical answer, saying, "Timmy, that's because English is a language that likes to keep us guessing. It's like a game of Scrabble played by mad scientists." He tilted his head and muttered, "So, it's a conspiracy?" Next time, I'll just tell him, "Timmy, it's a conspiracy against spelling bees – they never saw it coming!
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