harmony and genesis are fighting downstairs about how they don’t like how tall the other one is.

my brother asks me if he should condition his hair or not.

Freeman and elaisha are on the arm of the red couch, working at the secretary desk. Intently writing “Super F,” the comic strip. They sit shoulder to shoulder, freeman getting up to dance around or bounce every minute or so.  Elaisha shush’s him if he speaks of anything other than the comic strip. Elaisha is wearing her peace and smiley-face blue pajamas.  Freeman wears his orange striped long sleeve shirt, one of his favorites, with khaki cargo short, long socks, and his spray paint silver shoes.  He’s fresh out of the shower, his hair still wet and combed forward.  He’s waiting for me to take him shopping, his pants are all too short for him.  I’m watching as both kids stretch upwards right now, growing and thinning down from their baby bodies.

“I’m pretending to be a fire truck that makes meowing sounds… meoOOOOWWWwwwwoooooooooooo, meoooOWwwwwwwooooooo”  G calls out to me from the toilet. she's camped out on our only toilet, making kitty howls.  she comes out of the bathroom, “hey guys! Let’s play hide and seek!” 30 seconds, oh how little time it takes for her mind to completely switch directions.

5 more minutes and they ditched hide and seek, did a giant dinosaur puzzle, and E is now doing a Russian dance for a "show" that she invited the other kids too.  she and H are Russian dancing on the couches, H is the willing but confused participant.

they play with unrestrained imagination.