Q & A #11
by Colleen Hillerup
He was sitting in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea, nibbling on Digestive biscuits and scanning Spike's copy of "Demons of East Africa", when he felt a little pat on his knee. He looked down into a sad little face. "Hello, Meredith. What's wrong?"
"Daddy's sleeping, and Mommy went out and Auntie Dawn's at school and Auntie Anya's busy. Can you help me, Uncle Giles?"
"I'll try, dear. What do you want?" He lay his hand on the top of her head.
"I'm thirsty."
"I do think I can help you with that." He lay his cookie on the table beside the book and stood up. Reaching into the cupboard, he took down a glass.
"No, not that one. I want my sippy cup."
"Sippy cup?"
She pointed to the top of the counter. "I think Mommy put it there."
He picked up the small plastic cup with the white cover. "Aren't you a little old for this?"
"No, I'm not old. I want my sippy cup." She put on a smile more plastic than the cup. "Please?"
"Alright. The sippy cup it is, then." He opened the refrigerator door. "What would you like? Orange juice? Water?"
"I want some blood."
He froze, startled. "You want some blood."
"Yes, please."
"Mommy and Daddy give you blood to drink."
"It was Auntie Dawn's idea, but Daddy says it's okay. Please?" she asked a bit louder.
"I'm going to have a long talk with your father." He reached towards the blood at the back of the fridge, picking it up.
He almost dropped it when she shrieked, "Noooo. That's Daddy's blood. I want my blood."
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Meredith. What exactly is it you want?"
"I want my blood." She pointed to a pitcher at the front of the top shelf. "See? My blood."
He pulled the pitcher out of the fridge, sniffed it to assure himself that it was only cherry Koolaid, poured it into the cup and closed the lid. He handed it to her and she drank it happily. Wiping red drips from her chin, she said, "Thank you, Uncle Giles."
"You're quite welcome, dear." He sat back down and picked up the book, as she ran back into the living room. "My children," he said to no one in particular, "will be satisfied with milk."
by Colleen Hillerup
He was sitting in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea, nibbling on Digestive biscuits and scanning Spike's copy of "Demons of East Africa", when he felt a little pat on his knee. He looked down into a sad little face. "Hello, Meredith. What's wrong?"
"Daddy's sleeping, and Mommy went out and Auntie Dawn's at school and Auntie Anya's busy. Can you help me, Uncle Giles?"
"I'll try, dear. What do you want?" He lay his hand on the top of her head.
"I'm thirsty."
"I do think I can help you with that." He lay his cookie on the table beside the book and stood up. Reaching into the cupboard, he took down a glass.
"No, not that one. I want my sippy cup."
"Sippy cup?"
She pointed to the top of the counter. "I think Mommy put it there."
He picked up the small plastic cup with the white cover. "Aren't you a little old for this?"
"No, I'm not old. I want my sippy cup." She put on a smile more plastic than the cup. "Please?"
"Alright. The sippy cup it is, then." He opened the refrigerator door. "What would you like? Orange juice? Water?"
"I want some blood."
He froze, startled. "You want some blood."
"Yes, please."
"Mommy and Daddy give you blood to drink."
"It was Auntie Dawn's idea, but Daddy says it's okay. Please?" she asked a bit louder.
"I'm going to have a long talk with your father." He reached towards the blood at the back of the fridge, picking it up.
He almost dropped it when she shrieked, "Noooo. That's Daddy's blood. I want my blood."
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Meredith. What exactly is it you want?"
"I want my blood." She pointed to a pitcher at the front of the top shelf. "See? My blood."
He pulled the pitcher out of the fridge, sniffed it to assure himself that it was only cherry Koolaid, poured it into the cup and closed the lid. He handed it to her and she drank it happily. Wiping red drips from her chin, she said, "Thank you, Uncle Giles."
"You're quite welcome, dear." He sat back down and picked up the book, as she ran back into the living room. "My children," he said to no one in particular, "will be satisfied with milk."