A Rabbit's Death Causes Us to Laugh

I've done a bit of babysitting between yesterday and today, and I have to say, I have the best time doing it.

Last night, I babysat for the Kirk family, hanging out with Davis and Zoe. They are such a joy, such a blast to play with. They love to giggle and laugh. I get such a kick out of them when they get excited about something. They're little ones, one and three years old I think, so today came as a bit of shock.

Today, I babysat a 10 year-old girl who is the daughter of a beloved former poetry teacher of mine. She has the best facial expressions, knows every word to High School Musical 1&2, dances unashamedly with panache, and has the most creative mind I have ever encountered in one so young:
"The Force is strong with this one, Master Kat."

We went to Harris Teeter today to pick up some items to make a Fruit Thingy/Cobbler, which I'm sorry to say, I single-handedly ruined and feel terribly guilty about. As we walked up and down the aisles, we discussed animals. "I asked my dad one time, " she said, "what noise a rabbit makes."
"And what did he say?" I asked.
"He said that rabbits only make one sound, and that is the shriek of pain as they die a painful death."
(I was thoroughly amused. I'll have to remember to use that for my kids one day.)
"My dad's so weird," she said.
"No joke. I knew he was weird, but not that weird. He might be as weird as you," I joked.
"Yeah, whatever. You're like totally weird," she smiled. And then she hiccuped.
And we laughed.

We laughed pretty much the entire time together. I wouldn't have traded that time for anything. There's nothing like a child's laughter that seems to set aright so many things in this world.