"Hitting a stupid ball." Katchoo waved one fist in a gesture that would have been vaguely obscene if it was a little more refined. "An' then people clap and 'S NOT LIKE IT'S THAT HARD."
"Big p-people are really weird," Chloe said with as much assurance as a five year old could. She crept closer to Katchoo, keeping a wary eye on the remote control.
"You too, Chloe!" See, there was a time when Katchoo could be cranky and friendly at the same time. And yet, also without compunctions about teaching other young children questionable words. "D'you wanna stay an' eat with us?"
That was why there was now a shy little girl standing in the doorway.
"W-what's g-golf?" She asked in a soft voice.
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Mmm, strong opinions as handed down by a four-year-old.
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"W-what are t-they d-doing?"
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Because, really, why would so many people watch someone hitting a ball and clapping about it if they weren't?
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That answered your narrative question, Chloe. In the opinion of someone who currently actually was no bigger than a sneeze.
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"I-I'm C-Chloe."
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At four, the issues that went with sharing the nickname hadn't yet cropped up.
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