Today the kids and I went to a little place called the Mad Potter. It's a place that sells pottery that you get to paint. My son picked a trophy. My daughter picked a coffee mug.
"Why do you want a trophy?" I asked my little guy.
"I like trophies."
"Okay, what's it for?" I asked.
He didn't know.
Then the painting began. When it was all done, there was paint all over my little guy's arms, hands, and face, not to mention the mess on the table. He was thrilled.
"I know what that trophy is for," I said. "It's for the messiest painter in Cincinnati!"
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