“We’ll talk to Mama tomorrow on Skype,” I said to a sniffling L yesterday when we came back home.
Of course, once we get Skype loaded and everyone in their places, the silliness among cousins begins and K and I leave them to their devices.
“Let me show you something!” L shouts.
“Let me show you something!”
“The Boy is awake,” says Babcia. “Let me show you all something.”
But with just the two of us in the house, we’re soon off to work, the computer shut down, the dusters and brooms out.
“You clean your room. I’ll get the bathrooms,” I tell L. “From there, we’ll see where we stand.”
“When I finish, I’ll tell you,” she says. After some time, she comes: “I’m finished. Can you make sure I did everything?”
Her work tables are clean; her bed is made; the clothes on her floor have disappeared.
Such work deserves a reward: homemade pizza.
Which, it turns out, was only fun to make.
