If you stopped by my house this month, you might have heard...
A Mama tirade dissolving into laughter:
"SOMEDAY! YOU! WILL! LEARN! To pick up as you go and then you won't have to do such a hard job all at once." (at this point, I realized my ridiculousness and we all stepped over to the kitchen, which was--OK is--piled high with dirty dishes) "Someday you will learn this. But when you do, it won't be from me!"
An attempt at comfort dissolving into laughter:
"Great-Grandma's sick, I already hurt my shoulder and now I twisted my ankle. This is the LAST THING I need this week."
"No, Mama, the last thing you need is to twist the other one too."
Well-intentioned pronunciation dissolving into...private snickers:
"This horse looks just like the one in The Black Stallion, so I will call mine Satan (pronounced "Seh-TAN") after him."
(And that's how we ended up with a children's choir notebook decorated carefully with a horse and clearly labeled, "Satan.")
Laughter most days, rarely tears. Constant chatter with music beneath. A teapot's whistle, a fat cat purring. This is the soundtrack of life right now.