Sometime over the past few months, Marley has morphed into a diner waitress. Specifically, she calls everybody "hon" when they ask her a question. Like this:
"Marley, would you like some juice?"
"No thanks, hon."
Or:
"Sorry Marley, we're out of cookies."
"It's o.k., hon."
It's very cute, but I'm worried she's at some point going to tell me to kiss her grits.
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