Today at school, Kate’s teacher brought in pictures of the paper and talked to her class of two year olds about what happens when bad stuff gets into our water. This is why Kate told me tonight that she was “sad for the fishies.”
On the way to swim class, Will, who to the best of my knowledge had no clue about the several hundred thousand tons of oil dripping through our river just blocks away, asked why the air smelled “like gasoline.”
Why, indeed.
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