Jake, the other morning at too-early a.m., leans over and kisses the top of my forehead and says:

Jake: "They're coming to cut your arm off."
Me: "Whaa?"
Jake: "They are going to amputate it."
Me: "What? That's what you dreamed?"
Jake: "Hm? Yeah.." *snoooorre*

What the what?

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