Willow squeezed my face close to hers and whistled a high screech through her teeth :
“Warm blooded people, Mom!”
It blew me away.
Warm-blooded people, Willow. I said back to her.
She wiggled and kicked her busy body around on the couch and I tried to avoid another blow to my chest by leaning backwards.
“You are warm-blooded because you love me!” She swung her arms intensely to signify this big love.
I do love you, I said.
“Cold blooded people,” Her body, like some old steam engine stopped as she stared intensely into the living room.
“Cold blooded people don’t love me.”
What do you mean, Willow? I said. I think everyone loves you.
She buried her face into the couch and using both her legs kicked that thought like a mule backwards.
“Some kids,” she whispered, “some of them are cold blooded.”