Elizabeth comes to me in the kitchen: “Mama, want to play heaven?” Dishes are done, husband is out of town for work. No other pressing concerns at 8:15 on a Tuesday night. “Okay,” I say. I take her little hand and follow. “Okay you need to lay on the sofa and pretend you're dead,” commands Elizabeth.
Mama, Want to Play Heaven?
Mama, Want to Play Heaven?
Mama, Want to Play Heaven?
Elizabeth comes to me in the kitchen: “Mama, want to play heaven?” Dishes are done, husband is out of town for work. No other pressing concerns at 8:15 on a Tuesday night. “Okay,” I say. I take her little hand and follow. “Okay you need to lay on the sofa and pretend you're dead,” commands Elizabeth.