Jenny

Jenny inherited her sister Emily's and her aunt Rosie's compulsion to talk. If any of them have something to say, they just have to say it, never mind that the timing or subject are all wrong.

I should clarify that Rosie has outgrown some of this since her school days, and that gives me hope for Emily and Jenny.

So, one day not long ago Jenny was following me around the house talking a blue streak. I needed to do some writing. So I told her she has to be quiet for 15 minutes. Torture, to bottle up all those bubbling words inside her.

So Jenny went out on the porch with a pencil and paper and wrote down all the questions she wanted to ask me but couldn't:

cweschins

If you sayyou are a crischan then the necst Day you ly, are you a crischan?

Is an oke tree a cind of evergreen tree?

what are nats?

what are sandols made of?

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And yes, after the imposed silence was over, I answered all her cweschins.