Here, I bring to you a small girl child and her cousins, they are good for your pain. They will ask you for a crayon, a cookie, a book, a rainbow. They will ask you for all these because they deserve them, because they does not know what it might be to live without them. Not because of spoiling them, but because it is their right, because they are young. Unbroken. Singing.

The grandkids were eating donuts and one put her sticky oily palm on Mum's wall. We didn't wash it off for a long long time, until an uninformed stranger came and took care of it. That was wrong. A child's handprint deserves to stay forever.

Punklin reads her books with giddy glee, SPILLED HER JUICE! DOG! DRESS! GIRL GO SHOPPING! BABY! MONKEY! She tears the pages with her rapid enthusiasm, they are mostly bound with clear clear tape and love.

I have taught the kids how to sing "Do your ears hang low?" and they do it with gusto, giggling. It is good that I did not know it is supposed to be balls and not ears, (and I wonder who and when I learned it as ears, my poor innocent mind. Was I four, like Moose? Was I six, like Ben?) I have taught them the song like ears and it is too late to unlearn them. Do your eyeballs droop? Do they wobble in your SOUP? Can you twirl them in a loop? Can you put them in a COOP! We are thrilled to find so many rhyming words.

Feeling lousy is a funny thing, it is hard to remember how to be pissed when the kids are visiting. My life is a CRUMB but when I hold you, it's like CAKE. Miriam is too young to know what I am saying but she is happy anyway. Yes, it is easier to be silly and happy. It is better to be silly Auntie Jane than to think of other things now.

Did you ask for a cookie? Who wants a drink? Alright, everybody, pick a book and on the couch and I'm going to read them ALL.

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