Friday night, Will, Olivia and I headed west into the big city for a shopping trip at C*stco.  In true Olivia fashion, she had to go potty.  We were in the farthest corner from the bathrooms, which were waaaay up at the front, and I told Will to take her Will obliged.

According to Will, there was a little boy in the bathroom who smashed his fingers in the stall door and was wailing super duper loud.  And this was Fabul-O’s response:

He shouldn’t be a cry baby, daddy.

Thank goodness she didn’t tell him to suck it up.

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