Thursday, June the twenty-eighth, Clara Grace announced proudly, “Daddy, I have something for you.” Her daddy held out his hand and Clara Grace placed an imaginary something into his palm. Not quite sure what to do with the “something,” her daddy popped it into his mouth and chewed. “No!” Clara Grace responded with evident shock and disappointment. “You’re not supposed to eat it.”
“Ooops,” her daddy said and spit the something back into his hand.
“Oh, you’ve ruined it,” Clara Grace declared in dismay. Then, after a momentary reluctance, the little girl relented and pinched another imaginary bit from the air. “Here’s a new something.”
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