In this bucket was ice, a cooling influence, and one of stark contrast to the sharp edge of the lash. I could sense Cinnamon's anticipation, her ready...ng her body for more of what she had received before. It came from Deniece's hands yes, but more subdued now, more of gentle whack with the hand so as to bring Cinnamon's boiling point back to where she had been before. Now, and with such surprise Deniece's hands filled with ice and she spread it quickly to Cinnamon's flaming red skin. And that. "Well, honey,yes. But it's not about wanting to be a boy, you have to really feel likeyou're a boy. Do you feel like you're a boy?"She seemed to think about it for a moment and said, "Well, I guess not. Ilike playing with dollies and pretty colors. So I guess I'm a girl."My husband and I tried not to enforce gender stereotypes on her like "boycolors and girl colors, boy toys and girl toys," but I guess some thingsare just absorbed through the ether of society. "Well, then, you'reprobably a. More

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