As a kid I loved to sculpt. My mother kept us stocked with Play-Doh, but just as often she made sculpting clay out of flour, salt, oil and water. This stuff felt like clay, tasted like salt, and could be baked to harden it. This weekend I figured it would be a good time to introduce the stuff to my son. The weather was messy, and one can only play video games for eight to ten hours before your eyes start to bleed.
I mixed up a batch and plopped it onto the table in front of my son.
“What is it?”
“Clay. You can make something and then I bake it and you can paint it.”
He grabbed a handful. “Like what?”
“Like anything.”
“A dragon?”
“Sure. Anything.”
So he worked quietly and I cleaned the kitchen and when he was done he proudly showed me what he had made.
He had sculpted punctuation.
He made them with holes in them for hanging. A comma, exclamation marks, and an as yet unpainted question mark. My favorite is the ellipses.
“What do you call it when it’s lots of periods in a row?” he asked.
“Ellipses,” I said. “They’re one of my favorites.”
He smiled, “Mine too.”

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