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The teapot is whistling in the apartment upstairs. As I tie the last string on my sister's shoe, Father says it's okay, we can finish watching "The Magic Clown" before going up to my aunt's for breakfast.
Opening his lunch pail, he places yesterday's apple back in the bowl. Then, he empties his pocket change on the counter like he always does when he comes home from work. He says we can have all the nickels for Turkish Taffy plus an extra 20 cents each to order the magic kit. He reminds us not to throw away the wrappers.
abracadabra. . .