I was reading On Tidemill Lane to Anne and Betsy tonight, and trying to alternate between a Scottish accent and a German one, as Martha and her friend, Mrs. Edsel, conversed. My German slipped into my Scottish, and I laughed and said, "Oops ... Mrs. Edsel is suddenly from Scotland, I think."
Ramona, skipping through the room with a baby doll tied to her, sling-style, with a blanket, looked back over her shoulder and called out, "It's computer-generated Scottish."
She must keep you in stitches much of the time. Whose sense of humor did she inherit anyway? We've never had one quite so witty around here. Maybe it's a third child thing.
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