"More of the same." This was the answer he gave, while rowing a boat, to the question "What do you wish for?" To me, a young teen, this was preposterous. I stared. Not one other person in the boat, and perhaps there were six of us, all of us, would have said that, would ever say that, could say that now. It was as if he knew he would not have it. But while more of the same seemed the most humble, self-effacing and undemanding of requests, it was, of course, the most extravagant wish imaginable, the most impossible.
...
The baby laughs at rhythm. I learned this when at five I made my sister laugh by pretending, repeatedly, to sneeze. It was not the sneeze but the repetition. They hear it, they expect it, and when it comes again, it's funny. (The and!) Pleasure in repetition. This is laughter at "more of the same." As if even the infant knows this is a pure dream