Da Plane, da plane

Here I am again, on the steps at (perhaps) the babysitters place. I’m pointing at a plane in the first picture and in the second one I’m squeezing out a small shart. I’m smiling because I know the wicked babysitter will have to clean my butt. My hands are in my jacket pockets because I have stolen her cigarettes from the coffee table and I’m hiding them.

Whoever dressed me doesn’t realize that only girls wear their cowboy boots on the outside of their clothes.

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