“What’d you buy with the hard-earned money?” “An Easy-Bake Oven,” she answers immediately. “I have no idea what that is.” “Oh my god!” She sits up on her knees, slapping the ground underneath her as she looks at me in shock. “You don’t know what an Easy-Bake Oven is?” I shake my head. She sighs dramatically, as if the fact I didn’t grow up with whatever this appliance is was the reason my childhood sucked. “You’re right, you did have a terrible childhood,” she mutters, almost reading my mind. “You’re right,” I joke. “Not having some fancy oven was the reason my childhood was stolen from me.”
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