For his birthday, Nate got a green scooter, which he adores. I never grew up with one and so I look at them -- wrongly -- with disapproval. Also, he likes wearing his helmet when he scoots, which ratchets up my disapproval to something approaching contempt. I keep it inside though. I behave. Here is Nate with his scooter on a sunny September Sunday in front of our building. He pronounces "scooter" like this: "scoo-uh".
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