Hobson's Choice

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The Poet

The moment when I realized that Eleanor loves language like her parents:

Mommy, every hour, every day, every month, I love winter, the part of winter... we throw snowballs... we throw snowballs on each other's coats. We may boot stompings that look like boots. What part of winter do you like, Mommy?

8:14 p.m. - 2005-07-15
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