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I think I’m turning into a tween, but without the super awesome metabolism rate.

Last night Hannah asked if we could lie on my bed and listen to music together. I really wanted to drink wine and watch crap TV, but how do you say no to such a sweet, innocent request?

Um, you don’t.

After she played “You Belong With Me” by Taylor Swift for the nine millionth time she started analyzing the lyrics.

“Aunt Sarah, this song is totally about us!”

“Um, how so?”

“You wear short skirts and I wear t-shirts. You wear high heels and I wear sneakers.”

“Hannah you think my skirts are too short? Even when I’m wearing tights with them?”

“I’m six years old, woman, I don’t know.”

“Stop calling me woman.”

“Well then stop talking about other stuff. I only want to talk about how this song is about us. Aunt Sarah, it’s like Taylor Swift and I are the same person!”

“Well that’s gross. Your brother thinks Taylor Swift is hot, so you’re saying he thinks you’re hot? Hannah this isn’t Kentucky.”

“Aunt Sarah, sometimes I don’t even understand you. Or want to.”

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