My sister Mary’s Barbies were having a good day, picnicking on a stack of my Jacques Cousteau books. Then I decided I wanted to read those books— all of them. I stole the stack, disrupting the game, and began reading.
Mary was silent for a few seconds. Then she smashed her fist through her Barbie picnic and yelled, “There’s a tornado! Everybody dies! And it’s all Lisa’s fault!” She leaped up, dashed into the closet and slammed the door. I placidly continued reading.
After a few minutes, I heard, “Lisa?”
“Sorry for yelling.”