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Product details
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Here is the surprise: every day is like the first day to Zinkoff. Things keep happening that rekindle the excitement of the first day. Learning to read his first two-syllable work. Making a shoe-box scene about the pilgrims. Counting to five in Spanish. Learning about water and ants and tooth decay. His first fire drill. Making new friends.
At the dinner table Zinkoff tells his parents about his days. But he always waits for his father's question. "So, what's new, Chickamoo?" Or "What's new, Boogaloo?" Or"Kinkachoo." Or "Pookypoo." Many things tickle Zinkoff, but nothing more than the sound of a funny word. Words tickle him like fingertips in the ribs. Every time his father comes up with a new one, Zinkoff has to put down his fork and laugh. Usually he leans to one side, as if the funny word has the force of a great wind. Sometimes he even falls off his chair.
It's his teacher, Miss Meeks, who comes up with the best one. She stands at the blackboard one day, trying to explain what a billion basketballs would look like. "If you put the first one here," she says, pointing to the floor, "and line them up out the door and down the halway and across the playground and down the street - why they would stretch from here to Jabip!"
The classroom is a sea of boggling eyes. Wow!
Someone calls out, "Where's Jabip?"
Miss Meeks explains that there is no actual place called Jabip. It's just her way of saying some place really far away.
At that point Zinkoff, in the last seat in the last row, tilts alarmingly to the left and falls from his chair. The teacher rushes to him. His face is red. Tears stream down from his cheeks. He's gasping for breath.
"Donald! Donald" she calls, though he is inches away.
He looks up at her through watery eyes. He gasps, "Jabip!" He pounds the floor.
That's when Miss Meeks realises her pupil isn't dying, he's merely laughing.
It's a good five minutes before Zinkoff calms down enough for the class to continue. Miss Meeks forbids the class - and herself - to utter the word "Jabip" for the rest of the day. Nevertheless, from time to time there are sudden giggly eruptions from the back row as the word pops back into Zinkoff's head.
When he hears Clunker Four coming that day, he runs alongside the car as it coasts to the kerb. "Daddy! Daddy! Did you ever hear of Jabip?"
"Sure," says his father out the open window. "I also heard of Jaboop."
Zinkoff rolls on the pavement. Jabip. Jaboop. He keeps erupting through dinner. Eating becomes hazardous. His parents smile patiently for he first minute or so, then begin telling him enough is enough. But Zinkoff can't stop. When a bolt of mashed potatoes shoots from his nose, he is sent to his room. That night he giggles through his prayer and into sleep.
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