Amy caught me intently studying a portion of my hairline in the mirror.
Amy: “What are you doing?”
Me: “Trying to figure out if this hair is grey, or just really blonde”.
Amy: “It might be a grey hair. That means you’re getting old and will probably die soon”.

Is there some proverb along the lines of “seek ye not positive affirmation and good cheer from your offspring, for they shalst make you feel like shit”? There should be.

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