Last night, I was at Amy's house because Rex fixed dinner for us. (I had surgery on Tuesday and haven't felt very good so Rex volunteered to fix enough dinner for Ron and I, too.)
We were sitting at the table talking (don't remember what we were talking about) and Isaiah suddenly put his hand on his chest.
Then, he said, "Pressure hurts. Cymbalta helps."
We just about busted a gut. We told him that Cymbalta was for depression.
He said, "But pressure hurts, too."
Isaiah sure brightens our days.