When my sister Hannah was about three years old, my family was dining at a restaurant in a large city fairly near home. Eating out has always been something of a special event in my family. We would dress in Sunday best, and be on our best behavior. So, on this occasion, when the table next to us was filled with rowdy, noisy, and sloppily dressed children, Hannah watched then in shock and dismay.
When we left the restaurant, Hannah exclaimed “Did you guys see those orphelans sitting next to us?!”
We asked her how she knew that they were orphans, and she said “Orphelans are those kind of children that run around in the woods with no clothes on, and are wild!”
Sometimes, my own daughter reminds me of an orphelan. A demanding, wild little orphelan. Take this for example. At Marme and Granddad’s house, she removes her clothing “cause I am hot!” and demands that she be swung by an uncle. First she demands, then if that doesn’t work, she wheedles. Wheedling seems to be most effective on uncles. As she was heading out the door with Uncle Jacob, I heard her say “Awe, I love you Uncle Jacob!”
On this particular day. Granddad was out making a minor repair on his truck, and so dressed up for Kinsley’s viewing pleasure as she swung.