Ellen’s joy is currently found in walking around in my sandals, “helping” me type or finding small, dirty objects to stick in my keyboard. Naturally, I prefer to the former to the two latter, but am always at risk of allowing any, as a hapless victim to her tiny little grin.
I’m sitting in our front yard now, computer in my lap and children at my elbows. Ellen is so dirty, she—and I’m not exaggerating—brings the flies.
It was a mistake to get the slick, glossy screen option on my computer, as I can hardly type now, with the kids all around, jumping and dancing and giggling at their faint reflections in the white canvas of my Microsoft Word document.
What a blow to a journalist suffering from writers’ block would that be, to have children so thoroughly enjoying the blankness of your next assignment!
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