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46 the wading pool The toddlers in their tadpole bodies, with their squirt guns and snorkels, their beautiful mommies and inflatable whales, are still too young to understand that this is as good as it gets. Soon they must leave the wading pool and stand all day at the concession stand with their hormones and snow cones, their soul patches and tribal tattoos, pretending not to notice how beautiful they are, until they simply can’t stand it and before you know it they’re lined up on lawn chairs, dozing in the noonday sun with their stretch marks and beer bellies, their Wall Street Journals and SPF 50. ...

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