The girls were down, and the grownups were sitting downstairs, enjoying a well-deserved glass of wine. Rare, stimulating conversation having nothing to do with child-rearing was being had by the fire, when Claire calls out from her room. Due to architecture, it's quite easy to hold a conversation between the girls' room and the living room.
"Mom! I have to tell you something"
"Mom! I'm looking at this book, and these bugs are really cool! I wanna show you!"
"Show me in the morning, Clairezie."
There is a pause as she considers this. "Okay. Nite Mom!"
Our guests grin at the exchange, then we again start talking about grown-up things. (I used more polysyllabic words this past weekend than I have in years...)
20 minutes later, I see movement out of the corner of my eye, near the stairs. I'm pretty sure I know who's lurking.
"What are you doing, little girl?" Claire shuffles over to the sofa, insect book in hand, trying to look worried, yet, a little smirk keeps appearing on her face. Like she's out-smarted Mama.
"Mom. This book... look, see this bug?" pointing to the picture of a potato bug, eyes wide.
"It's freaking me out!"