Nana’s birthday was Sunday. K prepared the requisite ritual (the cake); L helped decorate it.

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We took a novel approach to the birthday wishes. Or perhaps that should have been “took we an approach novel.” It’s a cake designed to be read while approaching it at very high speed in an appropriately-scaled vehicle.

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Nana made a wish,

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and Papa got his own wish fulfilled.

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Reading The Sleepy Puppy to his granddaughter thirty-five years after he first read it to me, he didn’t laugh as hard but I’m certain the joy was as intense.