My angel...
She's lying beside me in bed, gazing at the shadows of the trees through the blinds of our bedroom window. She's being very quiet (nevermind the twenty minutes of crying she did before bed) until she asks:
M: Mama, what are the trees doing out there?
Me: They're just blowing in the wind from the storm, baby. The hurricane is far away from here but it's very strong and it makes a lot of wind.
M: No, Mama, the storm doesn't make the wind. Trees make wind.
Me: Trees? How do trees make wind, baby?
M: Trees make wind when they laugh, Mama. That's what wind is, the trees laughing.
I must be hormonal. I almost cried at that one.
M: Mama, what are the trees doing out there?
Me: They're just blowing in the wind from the storm, baby. The hurricane is far away from here but it's very strong and it makes a lot of wind.
M: No, Mama, the storm doesn't make the wind. Trees make wind.
Me: Trees? How do trees make wind, baby?
M: Trees make wind when they laugh, Mama. That's what wind is, the trees laughing.
I must be hormonal. I almost cried at that one.