I’m out walking with two-year-old Finn, when he dashes off shouting, “Run, Titta, run.” An old knee injury prevents me from running, but I pretended to jog. As we trot side by side he cheers me on, saying, “Great, Titta! You’re doing great! Good job!”
Finn settles into my lap with a book and asks me to read. We page through the book, discussing the pictures. “Där är en katt,” I say and point at a striped cat. He looks closely at the cat and says, “Cat, Titta, it’s called cat,” carefully enunciating his words.
I settle Finn in his buggy for a nap, kiss him and say “Night, night.”
“One more kiss,” he answers.
“Where?” I respond and he points at his nose.
I comply and he says, “Have a nice nap.”
I laugh and reflect that, yes, I am ready for a nap.
“Mom, my shoe feels funny,” Carl, age five, complains as he is leaving for the school bus. I straighten his sock, but he says it still doesn’t feel good. In exasperation I pull off the offending shoe and to my surprise find a pair of scissors inside.
Written by Birgitta