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Wiggin, Kate Douglas Smith, 1856-1923

"A book of nursery logic"

The getting of it on is anguish, and as to
the getting of it off, I heard her moan to her nurse the other night,
as she wriggled her curly head through the too-small exit, "Oh I only
God knows how I hate gettin' peeled out o' this dress!"
The spectacle of a small boy whom I meet sometimes in the horse-cars,
under the wing of his predestinate idiot of a mother, wrings my very
soul. Silk hat, ruffled shirt, silver-buckled shoes, kid gloves,
cane, velvet suit, with one two-inch pocket which is an insult to his
sex,--how I pity the pathetic little caricature! Not a spot has he to
locate a top, or a marble, or a nail, or a string, or a knife, or a
cooky, or a nut; but as a bloodless substitute for these necessities
of existence, he has a toy watch (that will not go) and an embroidered
handkerchief with cologne on it.
As to keeping children too clean for any mortal use, I suppose nothing
is more disastrous. The divine right to be gloriously dirty a large
portion of the time, when dirt is a necessary consequence of direct,
useful, friendly contact with all sorts of interesting, helpful
things, is too clear to be denied.


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