Words, words, words
My darling daughter
Some bedtime stories Ma had to tell again and again, like Little Red Riding Hood, with its rhythmic question-and-answer ritual that me and my siblings could never get enough of. “What big eyes you have, Grandma!”... “All the better to see you with, my dear!” We drew out the pleasure of the questions for as long as we could. Grandma’s nose, hands, feet, everything we could think of, was questioned, and if Ma hadn’t stopped us, we would probably have strayed underneath Grandma’s nightgown as
