March 2012

You're Only Given a Little Spark of Madness. You Mustn't Lose It. – Robin Williams

I'm pretty useless when it comes to math and science homework—for Charlie, anyway. I know I took trig and geometry and biology, but what little I remember is probably outdated. I know math doesn't change, but it's like a foreign language: use it or lose it. So I'm as grateful as Ev and Lily are for the help Abby and Tim provide.

But I can definitely give her a hand with English and Drama and—a little, anyway—History (though Ev is a far better resource than I am).

Because she was still on the delicate side, Charlie landed the part of Anna Muir in The Ghost and Mrs. Muir; she was able to pull off the grade school little girl in a pinafore school uniform and then swap out for a chic 1930s suit with high heels and pull off both ages.

I sat in one of the overstuffed chairs in the living room, knees drawn up and feet on an ottoman, notebook on my lap. "'Anna, darling! This is a surprise. How did you get off from the university?'"

"'They don't know I'm away,'" Charlie answered from her spot on the floor. Her British accent, honed from Ren Faires and recreation groups, was pretty good.

"'But—'" I said.

"'Come on, Bill. Don't be shy. This is Bill, Mummy.'"

"'How do you do?'" I wasn't bothering to try an accent.

"'How do you do?'" Ducky echoed. He had a second copy of the script and was reading lines from his desk.

"'His real name is Sir Evelyn Anthony Peregrine Scathe—'" Charlie stumbled over her lines. Anna was supposed to rattle her lines rapid-fire, but Bill's full name tangled her up. She read it off several times until she could shoot it out effortlessly at 78RPM.

We finished the exchange and I turned the page. "'I gather his name is Sir Evelyn Scathe and you want to marry him.'"

"'Sir Evelyn?'" Ducky said, now playing Martha the housemaid.

"'I met him at a dance in London. He's a sub-lieutenant in the Navy.'"

Ducky held up an admonishing finger. "To be correct, in England they pronounce lieutenant with an F—"

"Fewtenant?" Ev cracked. She was busy hemming the voluminous skirt of the aforementioned pinafore.

I reached over and thumped her with my script. "Fame-brain."