I’m sitting in the living room putting on my sneakers in preparation for our daily visit to see living people at the grocery store when Leta makes a mad crawl for her bedroom. I can hear through the monitor that she’s opened her shoe box and is throwing sandals at the wall, and then I hear a quiet shuffling. When I turn the corner of the kitchen to the door of her bedroom she is sitting next to the dirty clothes basket and has a pair of my panties on her head.
The first thing that comes out of my mouth is the only logical thing I can think of so I yell, “Stop imitating your father!”
