Dinnertime. Everett has the floor. He’s telling us about a Very Bad Thing that happened to him today.

(Emma Grace has something to say. We ask her please not to interrupt.)

It would seem that some of Everett’s friends were called a name today, and that this name was a Bad Word. This, of course, is Deeply Troubling to him.

(But Emma Grace Really has something to say. We ask her again to please not interrupt. And to eat her broccoli.)

Everett goes on to say that after his friends were called a bad name, one of the friends picked up a… what was it? a “something soft,” and lobbed it at her. It struck her (softly) on the forehead.

(Emma Grace is raising her hand. And eating her rice with the other hand. One grain at a time.)

Well, the girl was struck in the head with this something soft and went and found her mother, and her mother came and scolded the boys. Everett was among them.

Everett Does Not Like being scolded, especially when he is innocent.

(I ask Emma Grace to please put her hand down. And to please eat with her fork.)

Everett’s tale is finished. He did not tell the mother that her daughter used a curse word. He did not like being scolded. He, personally, was Only A Witness. This is good.

Emma puts her hand down. “Can we do that thing?” Emma asks us.

“What thing?”

“Where we go around the table and tell a good thing and a bad thing?”

This is a Little Something we’ve been doing of late– a way of helping us all to think of something to say about the day we’ve spent away from each other, a way of letting all of us In. Emma Grace likes this.

“Yes, Emma, we can do that.”

“Can I go first?”

“Yes, do go first. And do please use your fork.”

“Okay. Do you want the good thing or the bad thing first?”

Bill speaks: “The bad thing.”

Expectant, respectful silence.

“What do you want,” Emma says, “the good thing or the bad thing?”

“The bad thing,” Bill says again.

Expectant silence.

“What do you want first– the good thing or the bad thing?”

I swallow exasperation along with my chicken. “The bad thing first, Emma,” I say. “That way the good thing will make us feel better about the bad thing.”

Expectant silence.

“What do you want first?”

Exasperated silence.

“What do you want first?”

From William: “The Bad Thing.”

“What do you want first?”

Oh. My. Word.

Bill, ever patient. “Everett, she’s taking a vote. Which do you want first?”

Oh.

William: “Everyone has voted but Everett, but the majority rules. The bad thing.”

Expectant silence.

“Which do you want first?”

Bill. Or me. Or Both: “Everett?”

“The bad thing.”

“Okay, good. The bad thing, Emma. We all want to hear the bad thing.”

Emma smiles. She slides her fork a little to the right and looks past me at the window. “Bad thing, bad thing,” she says, and her bangs swing in front of her eyes.

Expectant silence.

“I can’t think of a bad thing,” she says. She Really Can’t.