Everett loves the cat. Loves her. I think he likes her coziness (she is Very soft), and her purring, and her contentment. These things match his own Love of the Lap, and Holding, and affection. This morning, while he anticipated breakfast in the warm sunlight, he admired his cat and commented to me, “I don’t think I’ll ever love my kitty as much as I love her right now.”
Emma Grace wore earrings today. She does this occasionally, selecting and then peeling them off the great sheet of stick-on earrings she received I don’t know when. They are small, perfect for a child’s lobes, about three-eighths of an inch in diameter. Some are plain in varied solid colors. Some are shaped: hearts, diamonds, squares. And some have pictures on them. Today she wore a pair that bore what looked to me like wallets. “What kind of earrings are you wearing today, Emma Grace?” I asked her. I could see them plainly, but I wanted to know about that dear mind and what it retained, having selected the earrings hours ago. She answered without a pause. “They are purses,” she said. “Polka-dotted purses.” And she was absolutely right.
And William is nine.
