So, anyone who's reading this probably knows that Lisa (the regular author of this blog) is away in Africa, chasing a fantastic story for her magazine. Which leaves me, the neo-Luddite, in charge of updating everyone on the doings and sayings of Miss Rachel.
Or, as she apparently now is known, "Princess Daphne of the Smiles and Laughs." ("And giggles," she amended. "I'm in charge of all the kinds of laughs.")
Anyway, we were on our way back home from ballet class when I saw a sign for an estate sale. I have a weakness for this things, and have dragged Rachel along to probably more than most 4-year-olds have experienced. I told her we'd be making a stop.
"Why do you like estate sales, Daddy?"
"Because I like looking at old stuff. Maybe because I'm so old."
"Yeah, you're old. When your hair is all white, we're going to wrap you up in plastic and put you up in an old house. A haunted house!"
"A haunted house! That's no fair!"
"Yeah, when Mommy dies she's going to go to heaven and you're gonna go to a haunted house!"
This was simultaneously hilarious and more than a touch creepy.
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