Olivia is sick.
I can tell because she has stopped.
She's not thumping around.
She's not dragging things from one location to another.
She's not building a house out of pillows, blankets and dining room chairs.
She's not cutting or gluing or making anything.
She's not dancing.
She's not talking.
She's lying on the sofa wrapped in her orange blanket.
Gabe slid over to school on his own today.
I think we'll postpone moving in till tomorrow, when Olivia can enjoy it.