We boil the milk that Badl brings every morning (pronounced “bottle”), because, as Grace puts it, “it’s a little too close to the cow.” Milk is called “dude”, so I call Badl the Dude dude.
When a neighbor stops by asking for “barf”, I point the direction to the nearest bush. After an exchange of confused looks and repeated hand gestures, we discover that “barf” is ice. Ahhhah!
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