“I only have 12 more days to shop for your birthday present,” I told my sister. “What do you want?”
She rolled her eyes and turned to me. “Stop asking me what I want,” she said. “That’s what I want.”
“But you’re so hard to shop for,” I lamented.
Moira rubbed her hands together. “Only 12 more days ’till my birthday!” she gleefully exclaimed. “Then I’ll be sixteen,” she chortled. “And I’ll be ancient!”
“What does that make me?” I asked.
“Mega ancient,” she said. “And mom and dad are old as dirt.”
My mother turned to my father. “Hello, dirt,” She said. Dad just nodded sagely.
Skwirlio 