My daughter just came in to me and said:
I want you to send me out of the house immediately. Give me my
room for students. Throw all my clothes out the window. Sell my interpretation.
TV, music center, iPhone and laptop.
Please bring all my jewelry to the Salvation Army Fund or donate it to the Red Cross.
Then leave me at all and never talk to me again. Remove me from my will and write my share over to my brothers.

Noah, she didn’t really say that. She formulated it all much shorter:
Dad, get to know my boyfriend. His name is Mohammed.