9pm, the three-year-old’s eyes are WILD as she fights sleep while awaiting dinner at a restaurant, celebrating her cousin’s middle school graduation. To fight off that bastard sandman, Laurel begins to rock.

Hair flopping in her eyes as she nods her head to this rhythmic beat, she sings in a low raspy voice, with a slight lisp:

“I very want to rock. I very want to rock. I very want to rock. I very want to rock.”

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