One of the things that I love about our Felicity is her tender spirit. In terms of temperament, she is the polar opposite of…ahem…some of her other siblings.
Having children is such a crapshoot, isn’t it? You never know with these little hybrids.
Last night, filled with a spirit of conviviality and togetherness after watching American Idol as a family, (and arguing over whom to vote for), the kids began making sleeping arrangements.
(Yes, we occasionally treat them to mini-slumber parties—this in the middle of the week, even! We can be lax that way.)
So having overheard their happy plans as they ascended the stairs, I was surprised to enter the little girls’ room and find Felicity weeping in her bed. John was sitting at her side.
“She won’t tell me what’s wrong,” he informed me.
“She’s saying something about wanting to sleep on the floor with the other kids,” I offered helpfully, though clearly her tear-filled request wasn’t good enough for my husband.
“I am not raising helpless little girls,” he intoned. “Felicity, just stop crying and speak clearly. Tell me what you want.”
Meanwhile, Angela was buzzing around the room and murmuring, “I want to sleep on the floor, too.” John paid her no attention; he was focused on Felicity.
“No more tears, now. Calm down and say, ‘I want to sleep on the floor with the other kids.’”
Felicity whispered her entreaty and kept sniffling.
“No whispering,” my husband continued. “Come on now. You’re almost there. Say it for me loud and clear: I want to sleep on the floor with the other kids.”
“I want to sleep on the floor with the other kids!”
It was suddenly as loud and clear as it could be, though it didn’t come from Felicity.
It came from Angela, who at that point was tired of being ignored.
All for the greater glory of God,