Many years ago I owned a horse named Oz. I brought my three year old nephew to the barn one day to meet the horse and told him that he was Ozzie. The kid ran from stall to stall, pointing at each horse as he said, “And here’s an Ozzie and here’s another Ozzie, and there’s a brown Ozzie and there’s a white Ozzie...”
My mother has recorded in my baby book that I used to think that fallen leaves were starched. Should I admit that?