So did you have a good holiday week, Huh? You didn't? You pooped your pants at Thanksgiving dinner? Again? We can't keep buying you new pants every time you get distracted playing that fan-dangled Gameboy of yours and forget to go potty. You're 33 years old, you should be buying your own pants by now. Oh, I'M uncouth??? Where'd you even learn that word, Kyle? Last I checked, I didn't poop my pants at Thanksgiving this year. Did I? Hmm, let me check. Nope... still no poop in my pants. I raised you better than this an...no... Kyle don't cry. Kyle stop. You're an adult. Stop crying. Look, okay, I get it. Your mom and I's divorce really took a toll on you, and I do still wish there was more we could've done for you at the time. But money was tough, we couldn't afford to eat dinner some nights, let alone find you a counselor. And when you pooped your pants back then, we just had to ride those poor things out until the next paycheck. But things are better now. I'm happy to buy you new pants when you need them. I love you, Kyle. I do. Just...please stop pooping your pants.
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