Ryan ran into the kitchen and found me and Anne working on dinner.
"Hey, I think Jesus would definitely approve of my shoes," he said, holding one up one leg, in a brilliant display of balance, to show off a very torn up slip-on Vans tennis shoe.
"Why?" Anne said.
"Because they're totally hole-y." He said. "Oh yeah."
He clapped his hands together, shot fake finger guns at both of us, and ran back outside.