She holds out a scrap of paper as though to hand it to me.
"Paper," I say.
She looks at me quizzically.
"Paper," I say again.
Slowly she says... "Paaa ... per..."
"Yes, paper, that's right."
"Paaa ... pe..."
"Paaa ... pe..."
"Good girl."
Ten minutes later, she holds out a scrap of paper to her daddy.
"Paper," I say.
"Paper," he says.
"Paaa... pe..."
"Paaa... pe..."
