Dinah thinks that I’m her personal complaint department. If he has a problem that needs to be solved, or a right wronged, I’m her first choice for resolution. Sometimes she’ll wait hours for me to get home to tell me about something that has gone wrong.

One day I got home and was taking my shoes off when she said “Garrison hit my arm.” I asked if this had just happened and she said no. Sarah chimed in that Dinah had been crying much earlier in the afternoon and yet wouldn’t tell Sarah what happened. Apparently, Dinah had been waiting for me to get home to spill the beans.

Yesterday I came home for lunch and Garrison had one of the neighborhood boys over to play. Dinah came and found me right away and said, “I’m having trouble with my art project.” I asked her, “What kind of trouble are you having?” And she replied, with no small affect in her voice, “Boys.”