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Way of the world

My children call me Mammy. It’s an Irish thing. I was in California visiting three of my grandchildren when I saw my 4-year-old grandson, “B,” having a bit of a tiff with his mother. She had let him have Lucky Charms cereal for breakfast. He, of course, had eaten all the marshmallow stars and none of the rest of the cereal and was asking for more. She said, not only would there be no more today, but there would not be anymore until he was old enough to eat everything in the bowl and drink his milk.

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