I braced for what looked like the start of a tattle–my daughter sliding into the kitchen in her socks with urgent information about her brother.
She spoke with animated arms still wrapped in purple pajamas.
Did I know what, she wanted to know.
Only I didn’t.
And so she pointed toward the playroom and said, “you gotta see it!”
I didn’t move. Except with my eyes. Which was when she went on. “It’s Little Buddy,” she beamed. “He cleaned the whole play room by himself.”
I patted the shoulders of my son standing on a dining room chair beside me. “Is that right, bud?” I asked. “Is that right?”
My daughter was still listing his good deeds on her fingers when my son sprung from the chair and grabbed her hand. “You wanna build trains with me?” he asked.
She returned his smile.
I listened with my whole being to the happy thumps of socked feet hurrying down the hallway.