Perhaps
it is the youngest child syndrome.
Perhaps
it has something to do with the genes my mischievous mother passed down to me.
Perhaps
because it give me flashbacks of pulling pranks on roommates
Perhaps
it is my inner child that refuses to be silenced.
Perhaps
its from spending too much time around a very silly three year old.
Perhaps
pure, mischievous joy is just contagious.
But honestly, doesn’t this make you want to drop a bucket of cold water on your unsuspecting husband’s head?
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