“Hey Clara, I learned something interesting today.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” she sat on the bed across from me and continued sorting through a small box on her lap.

“Well, I learned that there is a very famous person in history whose mother was named Clara.”

“Oooh. Who was it?”

“Well, it was a long time ago so they are dead now. You probably don’t know them. And they lived in Germany so she spelled her name with a K instead of a C.

“Who?” she said impatiently, still scratching around in the box.

“Oh. Klara Hitler. She was Adolf Hitler’s mom.”

She pulled her hands out of the box and stared across at me glumly, as if sensing that I wasn’t being sincere, but not knowing exactly what the trick was.

Suddenly Lydia burst into the room. She had been listening in the hallway. She jumped up onto the bed next to Clara and began singing a song she had learned about the timeline of the world. “Adolf Hitler! Adolf Hitler! Adolf was a German Dictator that started World War 2 when he invaded Poooooooland!” She wiggled her fingers in the air like tinsel falling from the ceiling and kicked her legs, barely missing her sister’s head.

Clara hung tight to her box and waited for her sister to stop bouncing.

Lydia finally plopped down onto the edge of the bed and tapped a finger on her temple thoughtfully. “Huh, that’s weird,” the little girl said too loudly, “Why did he invade Poland anyway?” she asked, sounding more like a character in a cartoon than ever before. “That doesn’t sound like a very smart thing to do!”

I shrugged, “I know right? Even a five-year-old could see that THAT was a bad idea. I think probably…” I stared at Clara, “he just didn’t have very good parents.”

Clara rolled her eyes at me and shook her head, reaching back down into her box. “My kids aren’t going to invade Poland.” she mumbled.