Run on a beach. Maybe. A safe beach. Or build a little area behind your house that has dirt you can walk around in that you know doesn't have garbage in it.

[He'll clean out that dirt, giving her an exasperated look, but hey, that's one foot clean now. Look at that. Pretty little pink toes. He'll lower that one and move to pick up her other, grabbing a new wipe to start on that one.]

They're diseases, Malia. Deadly ones. You need to take better care of yourself before you wind up giving me multiple heart attacks before I even hit twenty.