bing chilling

Im trying to read Charles Dickens poetry. Harley prances about, dancing. I eventually get bored and bounce up, were on the third floor of our large Casita. Me and Harley barge into the triplets' room, and squeal for a fairytale. They hesitantly give in and make us sit in a circle, with Darcy in the middle. My fierce older sister. Her bright hazel eyes shine and inspect as she grabs the scroll that Mami had once recieved as a child, and written the Tales of the Hummingbird, and began reading.