2002-08-13 @ 10:52 p.m.

the toothless seven year old is standing hip deep in windsor lake. she whips around and her little fingers, which still have blue and purple paint caked under the fingernails, are pulling her left bottom eyelid pulled down.

"aunt carrie, is there a tadpole in my eye?"

"a tadpole? no."

i look at her oddly and try not to smile at the sight of her and her seriousness. because she actually thinks there might be a tadpole in her eye. and who am i to think there isnt?

quickly, she shifts eyes. her left hand darts over to her right eyelid. she pulls her bottom eyelid down, leaning suspectingly toward me.

and matter-of-factly asks "tadpole?"