"Sometimes we let her pick the movie!" Mike said, and then whispered conspiratorially, "She always picks mine."
April giggled, though it really wasn't that funny. This wasn't like suddenly meeting your absent mother. It wasn't even like having a mother with severe mental disabilities. It was like having your mother as a pet. She'd been trying to come around more once she'd found out about Don's discovery, but what with the baby and everything she hadn't had the chance until now. Now she was wondering if her boys' devotion to this little turtle wasn't starting to get a little… unhealthy.
"It's like having a shrine to your ancestors," Don explained in a low voice. "Only the food offerings you leave actually get eaten."
"But…" April couldn't think how to put this into words, this… wrongness. Anthropomorphizing was one thing, but Mike sounded like he actually believed in it. Don gave her a complicated look made up mostly of sorrow.
"We know," he said in an even lower voice. "We get it, April. You've been like a mother to us, as well as a sister. But…" His eyes were pleading. "Just let us have this."
April could never deny them anything.