This morning, Elsie came down with her pillow and blanket and cozied herself on the couch. When I asked her if she was ok, she answered, I feel sick.
Oh? Where do you feel sick?
She scanned her whole body with only her eyes, then looked at me with them wide and full of conviction and answered solemnly, My arms. Both of them.
I tried not to burst out laughing.
Now all five kids are piled on Elijah’s bottom bunk. The reading light hangs down, and they keep pushing its red button. The bunk bed has been transformed into an imagination station. They apparently are visiting a castle and Tarzan came back with them once. Loud, excited voices trail all over the house.
This joy is punctuated by arguing over not wanting to get mixed up on their adventures. After all, if something goes amiss, the boys could end up being “Robin Hood in a pink tutu!”
Then Betty trots over to me with her big fuzzy blanket, plops in on my lap, and stands there. When I don’t respond immediately, she taps my legs and says, Lap, lap. Up she comes, and we cuddle while she flashes a huge smile, knowing she’s communicated with me properly.