All Little Girls Dream Of Their Red Wedding

(My daughter is running around with a rubber knife from her kitchen playset.)

Daughter: “Mama, come here! I want to tell you something.”

(I go over and kneel down in front of her.)

Me: “What is it, sweetie?”

(My daughter gets up close, and talks in the creepiest whisper imaginable.)

Daughter: “Mama, the Lannisters send their regards…”

(She leans in and starts poking me in the chest with her knife.)

Daughter: “Now you die! Die! Die!”

Me: “Was Daddy letting you watch Game of Thrones?”

(My daughter nods. I turn to my husband.)

Me: “You. Explain this. Now.”

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