Rosemary was about four when both she and the baby, Peggy, had a bad case of chicken pox. I held Peggy through the night to keep her from scratching. Because Rosemary was so sick, she was allowed to sleep with her father, which was very unusual. After two nights, Rosemary felt better and I told her she had to go back to her own room. She was furious and cried, “I’m afraid!” She stomped away. A few minutes later, she came to our bedroom door, and yelled over to us, “I know why you two always sleep together! You’re BOTH scared!”
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