Don't touch Mom's computer.
Don't touch Mom's phone.
AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, don't touch Mom.
Don't touch her clothes.
Don't touch her drink.
And seriously, I think I mentioned this already, DO. NOT. TOUCH. HER.
This is our daily routine. Grace saying -- sometimes screaming -- at Scott (and others) to leave my stuff alone. If I ask him to look at my computer when she's around, the siren goes off "Ma's pewter! Ma's pewter, MA'S PEWTER!!!"
Scott backs away slowly.
She's always been protective of me. But we've reached a new high. Anything she's deemed mine is off limits to anyone else.
Except her, of course.
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