Out of her sight, Out of her mind
When Claire does not want her teeth brushed or her poopy diaper changed, she will run to the front of the house to hide. The tighter she twists the curtains around her, the harder she is trying to hide from us.
Yesterday she figured out another way to thwart our attempts to locate her.
When we approach the gnarled curtain she will report, in a voice that’s muffled:
“I, SpongeBob.“
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