HB is supine under the glass coffee table. She’s suction-cupped an arrow to the underside, tied a purple ribbon around it, shone a flashlight toward it, and is needling the eraser end of a pencil into a spot only she can see.
|HB puts the buddies in peril (request permission for use)|
She reaches her hand out toward me and says, “so-shu.”
I place a new tool in her hand.
A few more seconds of toil and then the hand is out again. “Mer-shoy,” she says.
I give her another tool, a wooden block. She presses it against the spot with one hand, pulls it away, inspects the work, then tries it again.
She hands back the Mershoy and opens her palm.
“Lik-trish,” she says.
I lay a purple plastic ring in her hand.
“No,” she says, “LIK-trish.”
“Sorry,” I say, and replace the purple bracelet with a pink one. She accepts the pink one and turns her attention back to the table.