Toast therapy

Last night, Sophie had a terrible dream.  It woke her up and she woke me up and she cried for ages.  I let her sleep in this morning and took her to school twenty minutes late.  Before we left, she had a piece of toast.  She peeled the crust off and broke it into bits and arranged it on her plate.  I came in to find her explaining to Willow what she was doing: This is me, this is you, this is your friend and her baby sister.  This one is mom, and this one is Nate.  We’re all in this cage
(made of bigger crust sections) because we’re dead because my teacher killed us with knives.

Willow sat there solemnly nodding her head.  Later when John came home from work as we were leaving for school *, the girls filled him in.  We were all skeletons because we were dead! they shouted.  We got stabbed here (in the eye), here (the stomach) and HERE! (the neck).

She seemed in a much better mood after getting that all out of her system.  I’m still creeped out, though.

Lex turned 11 yesterday and we had supper together, just the two of us.  It was lovely.  Got him this for his birthday and he is stoked.  Totally.  He took lots of video of us getting ready to go this morning.  Should be an interesting thing to watch. . .

*he works at night sometimes

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