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Mike’s face paled and he started shaking his head fervently. "I don't want to eat spiders, Daddy! I'm not that kind of bird!"
Joe’s grin was victorious. "Well, then. I guess there's only one thing to do. You need to come down from that tree and have some proper human food. Unless, of course, you'd rather stay up there and wait for the spiders to come bite you."
Mike gave a fearful glance around before starting his cautious descent, his confident bravado replaced by hasty fear. As his feet touched the ground, Joe enveloped him in a bear hug, chuckling. "You had me worried there, chickadee. Now, let's get you some real food, shall we?"
As laughter echoed around us, relief washed over me. With Joe by his side, Mike shuffled over to us and we sat around the picnic baskets.
Soon, shade under the giant tree was our refuge from the heat of the summer sun, our bodies brimming with satisfaction from the picnic lunch we had just devoured.
"Did I ever tell you guys about that one time when I sneaked into the west wing of Daddy's mansion?" Mike asked, already grinning at the anticipation in our eyes.
Elijah's eyes widened, his spoonful of ice-cream halted midway to his mouth. "Wait, isn't that the place you're not supposed to go? Like, ever?"
Mike nodded, his grin widening. "Oh yeah, it's like forbidden territory. But you know me, rules are like red lights to me. Just a suggestion!"
With theatrical flair, he painted the mansion with his words - the tall, looming doors, the long, eerie hallways, the soft, plush carpets that cushioned his footsteps as he crawled past Joe's study, and the relentless thumping of his heart.
"And then," Mike paused for dramatic effect, "I saw Bubbles!"
I chuckled. "Let me guess, she was on top of the tallest bookshelf, looking down at you with that I'm-the-queen-and-you're-the-peasant look?"
Mike nodded, giggling. "Exactly! Sitting there all prim and proper, flicking her tail and looking down at me as if I'd trespassed on her territory, which I kinda had." He narrowed his eyes and lifted his nose, mimicking Bubbles' regal air and disdainful glare, drawing peals of laughter from us.
"She looked at me, then at the hallway, then back at me," Mike continued, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "And I swear, for a second, I thought she was going to rat me out. So, I tried to reach Bubbles, right? I mean, all I wanted to do was give her a nice pet. And then...she just exploded."
Mike arched his back dramatically, puffing out his chest and raising his hands like claws, mimicking Bubbles' defense mechanism. He hissed like a cat, his face contorted in a perfectly exaggerated imitation. The effect was instantaneous - laughter burst forth from our group, ringing out in the park.
"Then I just stuck my tongue out at her," Mike confessed, demonstrating with a cheeky grin. "And you should've seen the look on her face. She scurried off, looking over her shoulder as if I had personally offended her."
He threw his head back and giggled at the memory. "And then Daddy walks in, finds me laughing my head off on the floor, and Bubbles glaring at me from a safe distance. His scolding was epic! Best. Day. Ever."
We all shared in his joy, our laughter creating an echo chamber of mirth under the tree. We were all waiting for the next story.
"So, you guys know Samson, right?" Elijah asked. "Well, let me tell you about the time my pet gorilla tried to make peace with a wild raccoon."
The prospect of a sign language-knowing gorilla negotiating with a raccoon was too good to pass up.
"Our cabin in the woods had a new visitor," he began, emphasizing 'new' with a theatrical raise of his eyebrows. "A feisty little raccoon who took a liking to our garden."
His story unfolded, painting a vivid picture of Samson's earnest attempts at making peace. Elijah's hands mimicked Samson's signing, their movements fluid and expressive.
"And this raccoon, he was utterly confused," Elijah continued, his voice brimming with laughter. "I mean, here's a gorilla trying to negotiate peace, in sign language no less, and this little creature has no clue what's happening."
He finished his story, imitating the raccoon's confused retreat, which triggered another round of laughter amongst us. "And that's how Samson saved our garden."
Our laughter spread through the park like a joyful echo.
"I have a story to share, too." Taking a deep breath, I dove headfirst into my tale. "So, you know I wasn't feeling too great yesterday, right? Well, Hank decided he was going to play nurse. First thing he did was scold me for trying to hide my fever from him."
I mimicked Hank's stern face and deep voice, saying, "Lina, you need to take better care of yourself. This is not a debate, it's a command," earning a wave of laughter.
Mike and Elijah leaned in, their eyes twinkling with interest.
"And you won't believe what happened in the kitchen," I added, chuckling at the memory.
"Uncle Hank in the kitchen? That's a disaster waiting to happen," Mike chimed in.
I then began to describe the state of the kitchen, recalling the overturned spice jar, the noodles strewn everywhere, and Hank's shocked expression as he realized his cooking debacle. "There was even a flour explosion. When he finally served the soup, he looked like a ghost. Covered in flour, from head to toe. And you know what's the funniest part? The soup was made just from a soup powder. I have no idea how he managed to turn the kitchen upside down for that! Despite the mess, though, it was the best soup I've ever tasted."
