Florida doesn’t care about the other 49. If you’re wanted outside of the Im a Disney Nana its like a regular grandma but more magical minnie shirt, worry not. While it isn’t 100%, it’s better than nothing. Particularly if you have a problem owing money. Dead-beat parents flock to Florida. So do perverts; but I’m not sure if other factors don’t play a more prevalent role. A subset of this is the “Grandma” factor. It seems that everyone has a relative who live in Florida. 50% of those relatives are Grandma. If anyone is going to keep you hidden from John Law, it’s her. You’re really a good boy who just needs a chance. Granny will hide you. Nana will give you a place to stay. The other 50% of those relatives is the scumbag cousin or uncle. He’s probably not allowed within several hundred yards of schools and playgrounds. He’s thinking about getting a Harley. He has a mispelled tattoo. The strippers at the Mons Venus know him by his first name, and they avoid him. He will let you stay on his couch. His “old lady” will do you for a fix. Both of these people are enablers for people to do weird things.
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There was this annoying website they’d use to look up movies reviewed by Christians for Christian parents. No big deal, tons of parents review movies before the kiddos can watch. But this particular website was also stick-in-the-mud boring and incredibly stupid and over-sensitive. Basically picture asking a Duggar to review Deadpool. While a lot of kid friendly movies seem like no-brainers (Cinderella, Snow White, Beauty and the Beast), they weren’t allowed. My dad was fanatically against magic. Anything. I had a book called Magic Hour or something like that. (Not even about magic, just the title.) He freaked, ripped it out of my hands and practically threw it at his mother who was letting me borrow it. “No magic! You’re not allowed to believe in magic!” Mum was saying “it has nothing to do with magic, just read the back to find out. I’ve already looked through it and said she could read it.” Nope. (I should also mention that I was around 11 at the time. He’d been crushing any possibility about believing in magic since I was 3 years old. Also, the book was inappropriate for 11-year-olds because of sexual content, not a non-existent idea.) This led to myself and my siblings not believing in magic, ever. We would announce in kindergarten that Santa and magic weren’t real, make the other kids cry, the teacher would call home to complain, and we’d get in trouble.