Last week, on the way home from one of the thousands of baseball games inflicted on us (like locusts in Egypt), Will announced to Jack and me that he had made two New Year's Reservations. (He was going to stop saying "burn" and "jinx," both of which pleased me greatly. But that's not the point.)
I had a hard time holding my tongue, but I am glad that I did. Jack listened to Will's "Revolutions," and then (relatively kindly) said, "Will, those aren't New Year's Reservations. They are New Year's Revolutions."
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