Friday, April 15, 2011

The Wise Old Manchild

Clyde and Iris stand on a chair to hover over me and watch the fascinating act of me boiling eggs.

Iris-* sniffle*  *sniffle*  *cough* *cough*  *clears throat for LONG time*  "I do not like spring!"

Clyde- "I understand, Iris, I do that a lot too."  He gives her a profound and knowing look.

She looks at him pitifully with watery eyes and buries her face in his chest.  He wraps his arm around her bitty shoulders, sympathetically pats her shoulder, then leans over and gently kisses the top of her head.  She pulls her head up to give him a woeful look, drawing from her wiser and older brother, an encouraging smile and assuring nod of the head....for this, too, will pass.

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