“When is the baby going to get here?” Charlotte asked impatiently from the backseat as Jeffrey and I drove her and Spencer to school.
“Soon,” Jeffrey said, looking back at her in the rearview mirror. “You two just need to worry about that essay you both need to write.”
Both kids groaned from the backseat.
“Don’t remind us,” Spencer mumbled. “It’s a silly old essay. Nothing to worry about.”
Jeffrey glanced back again. “It’s not a silly old essay. It’s for a grade. I bet neither of you have a topic yet.”
“I do,” Charlotte piped up. “I’m writing mine on Amelie Beauregard. That famous tennis player. She‘s my hero because I want to be a professional tennis player when I grow up.”
“Yeah right. With a lot of practice and a magic potion,” Spencer scoffed.
“Don’t tease your sister, Spence,”
