Before entering the Hall of Fame that morning, your mom had spotted a sign painted on a bus bench promising chocolate. So that afternoon we sought the bench, and then the store. Bundled to death in hats and jackets we finally wandered into the Goo-goo store, "He's so darling" the clerk said of you - sleeping in my arms. I smiled politely back. We grabbed a salted pretzel Goo-goo and got in line to pay.
"I'd reckon you could trade him for a whole box of Goo-goo's," one man remarked in an thick accent that added an extra syllable to each Goo. Goo-ew Goo-eww.
"I'd hate to see what that man would do for a Klondike bar," I later joked in the hotel room. Your dad and I laughed and laughed.