Sunday, January 17, 2010
"Look, I'm dressed," Jane announces.
Jack looks up from a huge floor puzzle, "Hmm. You're pretty, Jane."
She smiles. Half across the room, I feel pretty too.
It's dinner. "Toots are not appropriate dinner conversation, Jack," I say. "Jack?"
Janie raises her eyebrows, "You just whisper, 'Excuse me.'" She smears mayo onto her bread, glances at him.
Jack's all mirth. Sitting up on one knee he leans on an elbow, "Well," he pauses, "I said, 'Excuse me,' in my heart."
"Jane, Janie," Jack calls, "wanna play Jesus-dying-on-the-cross, where I'm Jesus?"
"Yeah, come on!"
Before I know it, they haul off to Pilate, Herod, a cross, resurrection, miracles at my elbow.