Big Mama: What's your name?
Little Poet: Doggie.
Big Mama: How old are you?
Little Poet: One.
Big Mama: No. You are two now. Seriously, these are the only two things you need to know right now, and you got them both wrong.
Little Poet: Yeah, yeah. Whatever.
Big Mama: How come you know how to backtalk your mother, but won't tell me what your name is?
Little Poet: Brother do it. It not me. Brother teach it me.
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