“That’s too far, Ollie. You do it.”
“I do it,” Dylan interrupted. Up until now he’d been playing some pig-based game on his iPad near his bed like a good twenty-first-century toddler. I should’ve known he was following along with what Crista and I were doing on the guitar. If Crista was doing it, Dylan wanted to do it, too. Luckily for the sanity of everyone in the family, Crista didn’t mind indulging him. Once or twice, I’d actually caught her staring at him while he slept with a slightly deranged expression, while whispering, “Sleep well, Anna,” to him. I assumed Crista was probably Frozen role-playing, so I didn’t ask. Well, that and because I was secretly terrified she’d come out with something horrifying, like, “Anna was the girl who lived here a hundred years ago, and is currently s
