"A Storm at Sea!" said my Mother.
My Father stopped saying "What?" And made a little gasping sound instead. "You?—You?" he said. "The gentlest soul that ever breathed?—Would like to be a 'Storm at Sea'?"
"It's only the 'mother' side of me that is gentle!" laughed my Mother. She threw back her head suddenly. She thrust out her hands. It jerked her soft, calm hair all fluffy and wild across her forehead. Her eyes danced! Her cheeks turned all pink! "Oh wouldn't it be fun?" she cried. "All the roaring! And the ranting! And the foaming! And the Furying!—Racing up the beaches in great waves! And splashes! Banging against the rocks! Scaring the fishes almost to pieces! Rocking the boats till people fell Bump right out of their berths onto the floor! Ruffling the gulls till——"
"You wouldn't actually—wreck a boat would you?" said my Father.
My Mother stopped tossing her head. And waving her hands. She gave a little sigh. She began mending my Father again very hard.
"Just——pirates," she said.
"O—h," said my Father.
"We intended to make the next one about 'Motions,'" I explained. "But it was too hard. Carol wanted to be an Elevator!—Carol says an Elevator is like quick-silver in a giant thermometer that's gone mad!—He wanted to be the motion it makes when the Elevator's going down and the floor's coming up! But it made me feel queer in my stomach!"
"Merciful Heavens!" said my Father. "What kind of a family have I drawn?—My Wife wants to be a 'Storm at Sea' and my Son aspires to feel like an 'Elevator Gone Mad'!"
Carol looked at my Mother. My Mother looked at Carol. They laughed their eyes together.