She's not a 'tween yet, but she's got aspirations in that direction so fervent that it scares me sometimes. I'm so glad she isn't yet too cool to laugh at herself and gape with wonder at the sight of eight huge deer parading across our lawn at twilight. She's spunky and volatile, a real drama queen, who tries to rule our house with with thunderclaps of protest when I insist on a certain (minimal) amount of decorum at the dinner table or on diligence about homework. Her younger brother loves her with the chastened affection of the frequently spurned. Occasionally she will bestow the favor of a smile or a word of praise upon him, and sunshine will flood our house. Until the next rainstorm. Don't ask me from whom she inherited her changeable temperament.
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