Is it lice season? Her voice is anxious, her eyes nervous.
I don’t know. Do lice have seasons?
I just found a piece of something white in my hair. It was this big. She shoved a piece of lined notebook paper at me. A dot the size of an aspirin had been scribbled down in bright red pen. I didn’t know what it was so I threw it in the fire and burned it, but I made a picture so you could see.
I began checking the base of her neck and behind her ears.
It was in my bangs. I found it in my bangs, she said desperate.
No lice, I said soon enough. Her breathing and heart rate began their return to normal.
Girl two at bed time:
Are there nuns in our country?
In our country?
Good. I want to be a nun.
She smiled dreamy then frowned.
But there is a problem, she said in a lowered voice. She furrowed her eye brows.
What is the problem?
I’m going to be a figure skater. Her mouth drooped heavily.
Why don’t you be a figure skating nun, I say delighted with the picture in my mind of skater in full habit with wimple gliding past a tights and tutu girl to start her long program . Girl two’s eyes brightened with joy.
That’s perfect, she said, a broad smile filling her face. She crossed her arms content. That’s exactly what I’ll do.