The girls were chattering in the back seat one evening this week, when Annabelle’s tone suddenly got dark. I turned down the radio for more effective eavesdropping and when that didn’t work, hollered, “What’s going on back there?”

Turns out, they were discussing Sophie’s new friend at school (we’ll call her Sally) and something Sally’s sister said to Sally, which Sally then repeated to Sophie and Sophie had just told Annabelle.

“Sally’s sister told Sally that Sophie is stupid,” Annabelle reported, sounding like she was going to punch someone.

She turned back to Sophie. “I don’t like Sally. She’s not a good friend to you. Why would she tell you that?”

“Yeah,” I chimed in, unable to help myself. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Sophie said in a small voice.

“What did you say when she said that?” I asked.

“I said, `That’s not nice.’”

“And what did Sally say?”

“She said, `Good.’”

Obviously something got lost in translation.

“How did this make you feel, Sophie?” I continued.

“Upset.”

“You know it’s not true, you know you’re not, right?!” I asked.

“I know,” she said, this time in an extra-small voice.

“I don’t like Sally!” Annabelle said again.

“I don’t like her sister,” I said.

From what I could gather, Sally’s sister is in the fifth grade at Sophie’s school — two years older than Sophie, Annabelle’s grade. (Although Annabelle now goes to a different school.)

Later, Sophie asked for a playdate with Sally, and also reported that we’re all invited to go camping with Sally’s family in the desert next Easter.  I don’t think either will be happening. This is the family, by the way, that I stressed out over a few weeks ago when Sally was scheduled to come for a playdate and I wasn’t sure her mom knew Sophie had Down syndrome. (Then the mom declined to cross the grass to meet me — or Sophie.)

Perhaps I should have been more concerned about the sister than the mother.

I definitely need to get over it. I better grow some thicker skin — and quick. I told Ray about the whole thing over lunch a couple days later, and we agreed that the odd part wasn’t that it happened, but that it hasn’t happened already. This was the first time.

I turned the car radio back up — loud — to distract the girls (Annabelle as much as Sophie, she was still so angry), and thought about what more I could say.

I considered teaching Sophie, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never harm me,” but I’m not sure I believe that.

So instead I told her I love her.