I came upstairs at the end of rest time thinking Rose was asleep with Grandma. But she carefully opened her door and came to chat with me. We have a pattern of doing quiet play together and still considering it rest time. I asked her to help me glue pictures of David onto thank you note cards and then put the return address labels on. We had a good rhythm going.

It reminded me of how I would go help my grandpa in his office. My grandpa was a stamp dealer and worked at home. He had a huge office and a huge desk that he sat behind. He would give me tasks to do—soak a stamp off an envelope, use the tweezers to put three stamps in a wax paper envelope. I felt so important and included.

[Insert 45 minutes of obnoxious behavior here]

Rose was sitting at her little table eating a chocolate chip muffin and drinking water from her much beloved Sponge Bob water bottle with the flip top straw. I was lying on the couch with David moaning on me—David had a fever, and I was freaking out about it. Rose asked why was David sick? I said, there are lots of germs; that's why it's so important to wash our hands. Rose said in a rather scared voice, sometimes I don't wash my hands before I touch him. John reassured her that David being sick was not her fault, but that was, in fact, exactly what I had been thinking. I'm glad John took that burden from her, and I'm glad she thought to take it on.