Hope had a story she wanted to tell this evening. We were all embroiled in conversation so we didn’t listen to her. Finally in exasperation she stalked across the room, climbed up on a stool, took the phone, called the main switchboard and had them call mom who was working in the kitchen. When she got her on the phone she launched into her story with full animation. She waved her hands and rolled her eyes chattered into the phone.
Later, Kyle called from Oak Brook. Hope answered the phone and immediately began a re-telling of her tale. She is a night owl. Late in the evening she chatters and sings and turns the couch into a trampoline.
Right now she is rolling a twelve-inch TV across the floor like a snowball. If I had good sense I would spend more time watching her and less time on things that won’t matter next week, let alone next year. She will never be three again.
