Ziva is fond of the crocheted elephant I made for her. She doesn't seem to mind that I ran out of wool and had to make the legs brown. Children are so forgiving.
Rachel rings me almost daily. She is struggling to come to terms with my illness and is concerned at the distance between us. The phone calls are a marvellous way for us to keep in contact. Her calls are always entertaining. As we converse about how things are going her asides to Ziva are an eye-opener. “So how’s it going Mum? Hang on! Ziva I don’t think Batsheva likes being sat on like that. Sorry Mum- poor you -no Ziva don’t grab her hand so hard, you’ll pull her fingers off. I’m trying to cook some… Ziva you mustn’t squeeze Batsheva’s neck or she won’t be able breathe”. Clearly Batsheva will have to acquire some infant self-defence skills pretty quickly if she is to survive Ziva’s form of ‘Loving Terrorism’ as described and photographed by her Sabba.
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