Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Jane, Jack, and Lulie throw rocks in the creek. And Myra sleeps. Daddy skips the smooth ones. Grampa hunts more stones, tethers Patty-dog on her leash.
And Myra sleeps.
"I know where you are from," Jack says to baby. "You're from Momma's tummy."
Janie turns, "She's from God," she drawls. "She's not from Momma's tummy."