“Do you want some water ice?” a roll poly little fellow sang out this afternoon on the Beltline. He was following a young woman, perhaps his mother, who was pulling a heavy duty wagon loaded with some coolers and cups.
“Are you talking to us?” I asked as he passed, gesturing with raised eyebrows at me and Heidi. “Are you asking if we want some ice water?”
“You could call it ice water,” he sighed patiently, “but it’s really water ice. Want some?”
I laughed and his partner did, too. “Let’s go,” she told him, shaking her head. And away they rolled.
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