“Girls,” I say, in the hallway’s chaos.
“Yes…” They are in in chaos, too. Shoes half on, half off. Coats thrown on half over, half under their backpacks. In transition in many ways.
Graduation from kindergarten tomorrow.
“I have a phrase I need you to learn.”
“Yes….”
“I say, you say, ok? Illegitimi…”
“Illegitimi…”
“Non…”
“Non…”
“Carborundum.”
“Carborundum.”
“Ok, the whole thing. Illegitimi non carborundum.”
“ILLEGITIMI NON CARBORUNDUM.”
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