Spis that sneck


So my daughter Delia is five now, nearly six, and stepdaughters are Madeline-just-about-to-turn-three (really, just in a few days, so close) and Molly-five-in-July.

Today we are loafing about the house, since Mama and Rhonda went to see Storm Large last night and are currently feeling a bit tired.  This is because we are elderly and can’t handle staying up late, and also because neither of us got much sleep in the day or two before the show, but that’s beside the point.  The point it is that it was STORM LARGE and we had to go, or else wither away and die.

The older girls are playing Spy, which means Delia brings me a note.  “WE R SPIS THAT SNECK.”  I write on it, “I love spies that sneak!  Can I be a spy too?”  The reply comes: “YES YOU CAN!” (This whole learning to read and write thing is endlessly charming.  Last week she wrote on the back of a coloring page: USA I LOVE YOU.  BUT I AM SAD I LOST MY VIKEEN HAT.)

Now I am obligated to feed the children their breakfast, and then play some kind of Spy Game, which will probably be something along the lines of me hiding an object somewhere and drawing a map or giving clues or both for the girls to find it.  Since I can’t really have them spying on the household, we’ll just go with the secondary occupation of all spies which evidently involves treasure hunting.

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