This afternoon after lunch, after cleaning up the kitchen, I walked into the girls' room to get them - and me - napping. Semeli snuggled next to Lorelei as Lorelei read "Bear and Bunny Grow Tomatoes" (Bruce Koscielniak).
"I'm reading in a funny voice," Lorelei informed me, "'cause I'm her kitty."
They play this often. One is the kitty, and the other is the owner. I think it's ridiculous, but they enjoy it, so who I am to say?
They read together, and I reclined next to them, caressing Semeli's long, still-wet hair, as she now has swimming lessons every morning at her preschool. We finished the book, then Lorelei scratched Semeli's back, and I scratched Lorelei's. The weather in Southern California has been nice; warm and breezy. (Good thing, 'cause I can't function in the HOT.) As I listened to their breathing deepen, the draft gently lifted the shades to waft into their dimly sunned room. It was almost as though the breeze and their breaths rose to meet, carrying them tenderly to sleep.
This is what summertime is about; this is why I work so hard teaching teen-agers all year. This - so I can have time off in the summer and listen to my babies slumber into their naps. And I can fall in with them.