Tiller: “Mama? Are the clouds flat?”
Me: “Flat?”
Tiller: “Yeah, flat.” She lies on the couch and points up. “Like the ceiling.”
Me: “Um, well, no, they are kinda poofy.”
Tiller: [Face lighting up with joy and recognition.] “Oh! Like cotton candy!”
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Our Eyes are Like Doors
Growing Chocolate and Wonder and Hope