I was teetering on the edge of our bed this evening cleaning a light fixture with one hand, while the rest of me tried not to fall and die. After a few desperate requests my children finally gave up jumping on the bed behind me and dove under the covers with their tiny heads laying on our oversize pillows. Clara looked up at the ceiling for a moment and the excitedly at Lydia.
“Hey, Lydia.” She said, “Look at us! I am Momma, and you are Daddy!”
“Yes.” Lydia agreed. “I Daddy.”
“So, James. What are we going to do tomorrow?” Clara said, apparently knowing her mothers mannerisms all too well.
“Don’t know. Nothing.” Replied Lydia in a perfect impersonation of her father’s lazy indifference.
Clara turned to look at her.
“You should call me Andrea. Say, ‘I don’t know, Andrea’.” Again, exactly something her mother would have said.
They smiled at each other for a few seconds. Finally Clara squinted at her sister lying next to her.
“James.” she said, “Are you okay? You look kind of funny.”
Lydia shrugged into her pillow. ” No. I fine.”