There was a fly-bee

Hannah has this adorable habit of reminiscing about the past, telling and retelling stories from her exciting and eventful life. And so, the time has come to talk of the fly-bee. One afternoon, about a month ago, I suddenly heard loud, terrified sobs emanating from Hannah's (and Nomi's) room when she ought to have been napping peacefully (she is very good at this). I burst into the room to find her red-faced and shaking, and couldn't help but notice an extremely large and loud fly buzzing circles around the room. I shooed him away, she relaxed immediately, and after tight hugs and a dried face, fell back to sleep. Since then, every few days or so, her eyes will glaze over, and she will start telling the story of that strange day, sounding rather like an older woman (actually, reminding me of Karen Blixen in Out of Africa) reminiscing about her long-lost youth. We try not to laugh when she tells the story, always the same way. Here's how it goes (if you could only hear her...): 

I 'as in my bed.

There was a fly-bee.

He waked me up.

I was sad.

And every so often she will go back even farther in memory, to this past Erev Pesach (when we had no time to spare, but had to spare it) when she sat down on a ride-on car on our steep driveway and was whisked downhill, rapidly accelerating, and fell backwards onto her head:

I 'as on my truck.

I fell on my head.

I was sad.

That time, we had to call the paramedics, so dazed and confused did she seem after her fall. And, in Klinghoffer family tradition--she got a bear: her Misha.