items from their dress-up collection.
“Hi, Aunt Ivy! Mom, we’re hungry,” Rose said, as Emily trailed behind her, grinning.
Josie took one look at Rose wearing a feather boa, a shimmery blue dress, and a pair of enormous round sunglasses and burst out laughing. Emily’s appearance was just as comical. She wore a silk scarf tied over her hair and a pair of too-big overalls. An eye patch was wrapped around her face, but it covered her nose instead of one eye, and a fake mustache was stuck crookedly on her upper lip.
“You girls look like you’ve been having fun,” Ivy said.
“Yeah. I’m a movie star,” Rose said, flipping the boa and grinning up at Ivy as the sunglasses slid down her nose.
“And I’m a pirate!” Emily yelled happily.
“Wait,” Josie said, squinting at Emily’s face. “I don’t remember there being any mustaches in your dress-up box. Come here, Em.” Josie reached out, pulled her younger daughter closer, and put one hand under Emily’s chin to lift it up. The “mustache” Emily wore was a cluster of red hair that was somehow glued onto her face.
“How did you—” Josie started to ask, but Emily’s wide eyes immediately prompted her to question Rose. “Rosie, did you cut your sister’s hair? And what is this on her face?” Josie grabbed Emily’s mustache and tugged. The whole cluster and the clear rubbery blob underneath it stuck to Emily’s skin as she tried to peel it away.
“Ow, don’t,” Emily protested. “That’s my mustache, Mom.”
“I just cut a little of her hair with my paper-doll scissors,” Rose said. “And we used rubber cement to put it on, like we use in school for art. Pirates
always
have mustaches and beards, Mom.” Rose’s face lit up. “I was going to make her a whole long beard, too, but we got too hungry and decided to come downstairs. Are we going to eat soon?”
For a minute, Josie was speechless. She wanted to laugh and yell at the same time. She turned Emily around and looked to see where Rose had snipped the hair for the mustache. With Emily’s hair being curly, the missing bit wasn’t too noticeable. It could have been so much worse. As in,
a whole long beard
worse. Josie had a sudden mental image of Emily with long locks of her hair rubber-cemented all around her jawline. Thank goodness they’d come down when they had, or poor Emily would have ended up bald.
“Listen, Rose,” Josie said with a sigh, “you are not allowed to cut your sister’s hair or your own hair, do you understand? And rubber cement should never go on your face. You could have gotten it in Emily’s eyes, and then we would’ve ended up at the hospital. You will be in
big trouble
if you do this again, got it?”
“Got it,” Rose said reluctantly.
“And yes, we’re going to eat just as soon as I cook the spaghetti.”
“Yay!” Emily said, clapping. “I love sketti and meatballs!”
“Me too!” Rose said. She smiled, already forgetting Josie’s scolding.
“Me three,” Ivy said, laughing. She winked at Josie. “C’mon, girls, let’s go put your dress-up stuff away so you don’t get sauce on it when we eat.” Ivy herded Rose and Emily back toward the stairs as Josie slid the garlic bread into the oven and put the spaghetti on. With dinner in the homestretch, she meandered back to the little storage room. Other than the ancient typewriter and the rickety card table on which Ivy had placed it, the room contained her vacuum cleaner and a few boxes pushed up against the far wall.
Still, it’ll make a cozy place to work, eventually
, she thought. For now, she was tickled to have the beginnings of a home office, albeit one of the makeshift variety.
“Let’s set the table,” she said when Ivy and the girls came backdownstairs. Rose climbed up onto a chair and watched as Josie capped her highlighter and closed her notebook.
“Mom,” Rose said, pointing to the still-open study guide, “why are you writing in your book? You always told us
“Hi, Aunt Ivy! Mom, we’re hungry,” Rose said, as Emily trailed behind her, grinning.
Josie took one look at Rose wearing a feather boa, a shimmery blue dress, and a pair of enormous round sunglasses and burst out laughing. Emily’s appearance was just as comical. She wore a silk scarf tied over her hair and a pair of too-big overalls. An eye patch was wrapped around her face, but it covered her nose instead of one eye, and a fake mustache was stuck crookedly on her upper lip.
“You girls look like you’ve been having fun,” Ivy said.
“Yeah. I’m a movie star,” Rose said, flipping the boa and grinning up at Ivy as the sunglasses slid down her nose.
“And I’m a pirate!” Emily yelled happily.
“Wait,” Josie said, squinting at Emily’s face. “I don’t remember there being any mustaches in your dress-up box. Come here, Em.” Josie reached out, pulled her younger daughter closer, and put one hand under Emily’s chin to lift it up. The “mustache” Emily wore was a cluster of red hair that was somehow glued onto her face.
“How did you—” Josie started to ask, but Emily’s wide eyes immediately prompted her to question Rose. “Rosie, did you cut your sister’s hair? And what is this on her face?” Josie grabbed Emily’s mustache and tugged. The whole cluster and the clear rubbery blob underneath it stuck to Emily’s skin as she tried to peel it away.
“Ow, don’t,” Emily protested. “That’s my mustache, Mom.”
“I just cut a little of her hair with my paper-doll scissors,” Rose said. “And we used rubber cement to put it on, like we use in school for art. Pirates
always
have mustaches and beards, Mom.” Rose’s face lit up. “I was going to make her a whole long beard, too, but we got too hungry and decided to come downstairs. Are we going to eat soon?”
For a minute, Josie was speechless. She wanted to laugh and yell at the same time. She turned Emily around and looked to see where Rose had snipped the hair for the mustache. With Emily’s hair being curly, the missing bit wasn’t too noticeable. It could have been so much worse. As in,
a whole long beard
worse. Josie had a sudden mental image of Emily with long locks of her hair rubber-cemented all around her jawline. Thank goodness they’d come down when they had, or poor Emily would have ended up bald.
“Listen, Rose,” Josie said with a sigh, “you are not allowed to cut your sister’s hair or your own hair, do you understand? And rubber cement should never go on your face. You could have gotten it in Emily’s eyes, and then we would’ve ended up at the hospital. You will be in
big trouble
if you do this again, got it?”
“Got it,” Rose said reluctantly.
“And yes, we’re going to eat just as soon as I cook the spaghetti.”
“Yay!” Emily said, clapping. “I love sketti and meatballs!”
“Me too!” Rose said. She smiled, already forgetting Josie’s scolding.
“Me three,” Ivy said, laughing. She winked at Josie. “C’mon, girls, let’s go put your dress-up stuff away so you don’t get sauce on it when we eat.” Ivy herded Rose and Emily back toward the stairs as Josie slid the garlic bread into the oven and put the spaghetti on. With dinner in the homestretch, she meandered back to the little storage room. Other than the ancient typewriter and the rickety card table on which Ivy had placed it, the room contained her vacuum cleaner and a few boxes pushed up against the far wall.
Still, it’ll make a cozy place to work, eventually
, she thought. For now, she was tickled to have the beginnings of a home office, albeit one of the makeshift variety.
“Let’s set the table,” she said when Ivy and the girls came backdownstairs. Rose climbed up onto a chair and watched as Josie capped her highlighter and closed her notebook.
“Mom,” Rose said, pointing to the still-open study guide, “why are you writing in your book? You always told us
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