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My son is an extroverted feeler.

When we moved to our present abode he was moved in the middle of first grade. He left the teacher he loved and house and friends. His grandmother was dying, his mother was working too much and his father was grumpy.

At my clinic the office manager said she was having a Winnie the Pooh Day.
"What?" I said.
She blushed. "Um. Well, your son was in here last week, remember?"
"Uh-huh."
"I asked him if he likes Winnie the Pooh because he was wearing a Pooh sweatshirt. He said, "Winnie the Pooh is a mother fucker.""
"Oh."
"Now at least we know what to call those days."

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