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12

Saturday after Thanksgiving, Durango, Colorado...

Milli and Camille were eating pretzels as they walked through the mall behind Willow and Gracie. The girls were taking turns pushing Emily’s stroller and sipping frappes. The 12-year-olds squealed happily and pushed the stroller into a store filled with plushies and candy. In moments, they were hovering over Emily who just yawned as they waved colorful stuffed toys at her.

“She looked at this one.”

“No, she didn’t, she looked at mine.”

“She likes the red and orange one.”

“No. The blue and light blue.”

“She likes the firefish, Gracie!”

“She likes the dolphin, Willow.”

They were getting louder and louder, and Emily had scrunched up her face.

“Girls! Babies at that age don’t see colors well, it’s about contrasting colors, find something black and white,” Camille scolded. Shaking her head as they stalked off mumbling about penguins an

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