As the youngest, D was the ultimate informer.
One day she was having a tough time because the kids had locked her out of the car. “Open the door! Open the DAMNED door!” she yelled. (Bear in mind, she was three and didn’t hear these words at home. I still don’t know where she picked it up.
“If you would keep you personage off the floor, then I wouldn’t step on it!” she exclaimed after her brother complained that she had stepped on his personage.
She carefully introduced each new Beanie Baby to all the older ones. Arranged in a circle, she lectured the older Beanies that this one had joined their family and they were to be nice to the new one. (She was super embarrassed when I caught her doing this one day.)
One day D was playing alone in the far back yard, not quite within sight of the house. She was about 6. Suddenly she ran in, and gave me a BIG hug. “An angel appeared to me out there,” she explained, “and said I should CARE for you.” I asked if she meant love me, and she was emphatic, that she was not just to love me, but to CARE for me.