Monday, October 18, 2010

And It Begins . . .

I'm backing the car out of the driveway, turning my head over my shoulder to watch behind me, and I catch a glimpse of Annie's face in the backseat.  She's smiling shyly, which is unusual because we're heading to catechism, which she professes to "hate."

"What are you so happy about?" I ask.  For a moment, there's still silence, still a sweet smile as her eyes look down at her wrists and I put the car into drive, turn the wheel, and head down the street.  She hesitates.

"Ryan P. gave me this Silly Band today," she says, and she can hardly meet my eyes in the rearview mirror.  "It's a hammer."

In spite of myself, I smile but try to keep the smile out of my voice as I ask, "Did you give one of yours to Ryan?"

"Yes," she says, "a Christmas tree."

"Oh, good," I say.  And then, casually, because there are strangely at least three Ryans in her grade, at least one of whom is a girl: "Is Ryan P. a girl or a boy?"

More silence, more downcast eyes, more smiling.  "A boy."

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