006 ❖ rat pizza at the child casino

the moment where, collectively, we decide to stop correcting and start enjoying the four-year-old calling the place “Chunky Cheese”

“What if you…didn’t burn the grilled cheese?”
- a therapist I went to exactly three times who I think about every single morning when I’m making school lunches

the nub on the handle of the pan that lines up with the hole in the handle of the spatula that fits into the notch of the lid ◆ the way I went to sleep on a bed without a bed frame covered in musty sheets and woke up 10 years later as a man who gets excited about baskets, or, later on still, a man that expects to donate enough, organize enough, downsize enough, replace enough tchotchkes with plants, take enough walks, make enough tea in order to wake up as a more sock-friendly a version of this guy.

“is somebody gonna match my freak?” as in “is somebody gonna share my enthusiasm for The Witch/Nosferatu guy directing the upcoming Labyrinth sequel?” ◆ getting my Dad a NYT Games subscription on a lark only to find out he’s infuriatingly good at Spelling Bee so now he texts me the word “Genius” every few days, which is one of several incredibly indirect ways he tells me he loves me ◆◆◆