Girls

There is wi-fi in the house for anyone who brings a laptop or iPad when they come to visit. And my mother’s old computer is online downstairs for anyone to use. The girls play games on it. But the main thing is “Papa, may I use your laptop?” One girl using it stirs the other to want to use it, a law of nature that had it tied up Friday and Saturday such that my time on it had to be early before there were girl noises from the pink bedroom or light shining under their door. 

Anyone who won’t let a child touch their computer likely doesn’t have granddaughters. The one with her head in the stratosphere seems more focused on it than the other.  

Recently she asked, “Mom, do you know why I don’t run faster in PE?” 

“No, why?”

“Because the faster I move in space the slower I move in time, and I don’t want PE to last any longer than it already does.”

A house is happiest for me when there are child noises. Even the sound of squabbling is better than nothing. The sound of silence is too loud when no girls are around.

TW