Page 43 of Jane Deyre

Adele points at it. “I know! Let’s call that one Speedy.”

I have to stifle a laugh because the last thing snails are is speedy. “Okay. What about the other?”

She studies the tannish shell. “Stripe because he has brown stripes.”

“That’s a great name for him... Hi, Stripe and Speedy.”

Adele waves at them. “Do you think they’re hungry?”

I point out all the chewed leaves. “They like to eat leaves. And that’s also how they get water. They prefer to eat very early in the morning. I think they’ve already had their breakfast.”

I sound like a walking encyclopedia on snails.

Adele looks up at me. “What else do they like to eat?”

“All kinds of fruits and vegetables.” I spew out a few. “Why don’t we make them a fruit salad for lunch?”

“Cool! Can I help cut up the fruit?”

“Of course.” Great! I have an indoor activity for us. That should kill about an hour along with our lunch. Then what? With the power outage and rain, I can’t throw her in front of a TV or take her to the pool as planned. My mind rifles through all the things we bought at Target. Bingo!

“C’mon, honey. Let’s go inside and play a game.”

Rising, she takes my hand again. “Bye, Stripe! Bye, Speedy!A toute à l’heure!”

Adele is an absolute joy to spend time with. She’s animated, cooperative, and an eager learner. We spend the morning playing games. Chutes and Ladders, Connect Four, Mouse Trap, and Candyland. It’s like I’m living my childhood for the first time because the foster homes I was placed in didn’t have these games.

“Do you know any more games?” asks Adele.

I put on my thinking cap. One comes to mind. We used to play it at school, and I was always the best because I could use my acting skills.

“Do you know how to play pretend?”

“What’s that?”

Obviously, she doesn’t. It’s easy to explain. I tell her we each have to pretend to be someone or something and the other has to guess what it is.

“Can I go first?” asks an excited Adele. “I already know what I’m going to be.”

“Sure.” Without wasting a second, she throws her hood over her head and lies facedown on the carpet. She begins to slowly slide her body across the rug. “Take a guess, Jane!”

I’m almost positive I know what she is, but I’m going to make her think she’s stumped me.

“A snake?”

“No!” She lowers her hood and stretches her neck.

“A turtle?”

“No, silly! One more try.”

“I give up.”

She bursts into laughter. “I’m a snail, Jane!” She makes L-shapes with her thumbs and forefingers and places them on the top of her head. “And these are my tentacles.”

I join her laughter. “That was so good, honey.”

“Okay, your turn, Jane.”