laughing with my sistas

Our last single baby sister's last night as a single! "What did all my girls do?" asked Grandpa.

"We just played silly games and ate snacks."
Perhaps I should have said, "My sistas made me laugh inside and out. For a little while we forgot our sedate responsibilities and remembered silly things. We forgot that our baby was getting married, we forgot that the rest of us had children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. Did my dad want to hear, "my sister-in-law's revealed their fun true selves to me for the first time and I loved who they are?"

When I am old, I want to remember Isabel's embarrassment over butt cheeks, Annette vacuuming while looking in every mirror, Elisabeth's rendition of an idiot, Julie and I leaving the embarrassing van at an intersection to hide behind trees on a college campus, Ivy throwing cheese balls at me on Elisabeth's new sofas, Grandma getting her head stuck between the bars at a movie theater, and Jenafur laughing and laughing. In fact, when I am old, perhaps 70 or 80, I hope I get together with my sistas and throw cheese, and make faces, and giggle like monkeys.
We are all an adverb. Can you guess which one? And yes. I am trying to bite Ivy's toes. It's been a weakness with my sisters for a long time.