A Dash of Mother's Love in everything

There we are, Godzilla and I, preparing dinner.

“I don’t like that!” he tells me, before he’s even seen what we are having or asking what it is.

Followed by “What are you making for dinner?”

Hrmmmm.

“Curried sausages.”

“I don’t like that.”

I know, I know. You never have, never will.

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