Cordelia's Secrets

Two days ago I discovered that one of the small, pink feet from Emma's doll bed was missing. The what of this story isn't important--just understand that what was missing was a pink piece of plastic perhaps the size of a thimble.

I asked the assembled children if anyone had seen this piece of plastic and Cordelia perked right up. "I know where it is," she said.

This surprised me because normally Cordelia's memory is spotty and her powers of observation come and go.

I asked her where she had seen it. She replied, "I can't describe it. I have to take you there."

So she took me by the hand and led me downstairs. Out into the garage. To the back of the garage. To the bottom shelf. Where she pulled out the big plastic tub we use to store swimming paraphrenalia. She then fished around to the bottom of the tub, in the far, back corner. And promptly produced the pink doo-hickey.

"How did that get here?" I asked.

"I put it there," she answered matter-of-factly. "It looked special to me so I put it there to keep it safe."

She scampered off and I immediately started to wonder what other items she has stashed around the house. Maybe we should keep Shannon's jewelry in a secure place? Or lock up the silver?

But the thing that struck me most is that of the kids, Cordelia remains the one with the deepest interior life. Cody tells you everything he's feeling. Emma, too. But with Cora, there are wheels within wheels.