these tarts of pop

Just think, soon he'll be coming home with strange bruises on his neck and smelling oddly of some sort of girly perfume, and then he'll be asking for the keys to the car, and then he'll graduate, and then he'll move out, and get married, and have ellebenty eleven kids of his own for you to smother in love and sugar and send back to him all hyped up on glucose, and-

...uh, yeah. Congrats! :D