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I saw the Great Pyramid and got thirsty.
Maybe it was all the sand. So dry and yellow, it seemed to stret testing me. Whenever we go on a trip, he always asks me a million questions like that. I don't think I've ever answered one right.
"Some kind of stone?" I answered.
"That's right." He smiled at me, then turned back to his book. "It's made of limestone. Limestone blocks. It says here that some of the blocks weigh up to a thousand tons."
"Whoa," I said. "That's more than you and Mom put together!"
He turned his eyes from the book and frowned at me. "Not funny, Gabe."
"Just kidding," I said. Dad's a little sensitive about his weight, so I try to tease him about it as often as I can.
"How do you think the ancient Egyptians moved stones that weighed a thousand tons?" he asked.
Quiz time wasn't over.
I took a guess. "In trucks?"
He laughed. "Trucks? They didn't have the wheel."
I shielded my eyes and stared up at the pyramid. It was really huge, much bigger than it looks in pictures. And much dryer.
I couldn't imagine how they pulled those big stones across the sand without wheels. "I don't know," I confessed. "I'm really thirsty."
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"No one knows how they did it," Dad said.
So it was a trick question.
"Dad, I really need a drink."
"Not now," he said. He squinted at the pyramid. "Gives you a funny feeling, doesn't it?"
"It gives me a thirsty feeling," I said, trying to get my point across.
"No. I mean, it gives me a funny feeling to think that our ancestors—yours and mine, Gabe—may have walked around these pyramids, or even helped to build them. It gives me kind of a chill. How about you?"
"I guess," I told him. He was right. It was kind of exciting.
We're Egyptian, you see. I mean, both sets of my grandparents came from Egypt. They moved to the United States around 1930. My mom and dad were both born in Michigan. We were all very excited to see the country our ancestors came from.
"I wonder if your uncle Ben is down i