Memories are made of this.

I remember bits of my childhood.

“Mommy, this story isn't right.”
“Why?”
“The shoe sinks.”
“What?”
“I just tried it in the creek.”
“MY wooden shoe…from Holland?”
“Holland?”
“Gone.”
“No, it's just wet.”
“This is a children's story about three kids floating off in a shoe.”
“It's not real.”
“Do you know how old you are?”
“Four.”
“I see how this is going to turn out. OK, go into your father's library and find a book you want me to read to you.”

[later]

“What are you doing?”
“Drawing lines and boxes from this drawing book.”
“Those are called 'triangles. And that's a geometry book.”
“They are just lines.”
“Do you know any of those words?”
“No.”
“Daddy will teach you.”
“Like chess.”
“You play chess with Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“Who wins?”
“Daddy.”
“I wonder how long THAT will last?”
“Daddy plays good.”
“I'll show you a protractor. Daddy will love me for that.”
“Can I have a gun?”
“You can't shoot a gun.”
“Yes, I can. Daddy…”
“OOH, NOO!”
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