Lincoln Logs, she said.
You dont like them?
She smoothed out the wrapping paper on her lap and frowned. I asked for that poetry book. You know, the one with the picture of the tree on the front?
And I had planned on getting it for her until I saw the little sticker with the price on the back.
You cant build a house out of poetry, I said.
She burst into tears, and I got the feeling it was the wrong thing to say.