Marcus was born seven years ago in a little house in a medium town to two very happy parents who counted his toes and kissed his fingers and boggled at how, exactly, he managed to weigh ten pounds, two ounces at birth. He greatly enjoyed his baths, loved pulling the cats’ tails, and was a spectacular spitter.

He now climbs trees with almost (but not quite) reckless abandon, speeds down the driveway on his bicycle to cut a figure-eight through the front yard, and fixes his sister’s oatmeal in the morning. He greatly enjoys reading Roald Dahl books, wants to be a train engineer when he grows up, and wants to die before the sun goes nova.

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