If there should ever be doubt as to whether or not Geneva is truly my child, I will present the following anecdote as evidence:
While preparing dinner in the kitchen, I was met by a pair of big, longing eyes. The food I was handling was smoked salmon and, feeling generous, I peeled off a very large chunk and handed it to Geneva. I wasn't sure whether or not she would eat it or if she would even try it, but I should have known better. She cried "YEE-ahhh!" and shoved the whole thing into her mouth. Her lips could barely close. That was one happy girl.
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