Kids have a strange, immodest kind of honesty. Today, while I was babysitting, Sam asked me whether or not I was a mom, and when I asked him why he thought that, he replied "Because you have things", an answer which puzzled me until he whispered 'boobies' and giggled like he was saying something bad. ("My mom has things too. -giggle-" I mean really, what is the proper response in this conversation?) Alex seems fascinated by dry skin. She keeps touching my elbow and saying "Look, I have dry skin too, on my face". Like dry skin is the most interesting thing in the world. And she was so proud of her injured foot, and kept taking her sock off to show us the bandage. Florence is the oldest, at nine years, and considers herself miles more mature. She is bossy, like any older sister will be, and when she has to explain something she finds obvious to her siblings, or when they won't listen to her, she looks at me with an exasperated, world-weary expression as if to say, 'Oh, what children they are'.
Kids are interesting creatures.
Olivia
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