[Lip comes downstairs to kitchen heavily bruised] Whoa, what happened to you?
One of my fighters pussied out. I had to fill in.
Looks like the pussy had the right idea. Get some ice on that eye.
[She comes downstairs] with a clipboard Good morning. We're out of mac and cheese. I can make PB&Js instead, but I'm gonna need more bread.
...
[Debbie pours herself a cup of coffee and Fiona objects pointing] Whoa, half a cup.
Exhausted. Liam had me up half the night banging his head. I need my own room. And I want a pony for Christmas. He's a boy, he should be with the boys.
No way, there's three of us in that room.
I'm a girl. I'm gonna be a woman soon. I need privacy to undergo the upcoming traumatic transformation.
It's not that traumatic.
How would you know?
Video in 5th grade.
What we talking about?
Moving Liam into our room.
No fucking way.
First daycare kid is here. My own room?
It's not gonna happen, Debs. Go, go.
Traumatic transformation?
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