Over at friends' house this evening, the kids disappeared upstairs to play (remember those days? You leave your shoes at the door, wave absently over your shoulder as you shoot up the stairs, only to emerge to put your shoes back on to go home. The funny thing is, I recall thinking that I was really getting away with something, doing whatever mischievous things poorly supervised kids get up to. As a parent now, I am secretly horrified on little Lesley's behalf that my parents were in all likelihood thrilled to get the break of adult conversation. Geez, one more illusion down.)
As the grown ups chatted, the sounds of youthful play drifted down. There was Playmobil involved. I like Playmobil. But over all the little squeals and giggles, one sound stood out: Finny laughing. I will grant you, the child has some volume in everything she does, but her full-throated boisterous guffah is joy itself. Happiness unadulterated. Good to hear.