You were sitting on the couch eating the ice cream out of a cone with a spoon. Mommy and Daddy had each refilled the cone, so this was your third cone-full of ice cream.
Daddy was trying to maneuver something to block the patio door to stop Oshie from damaging the expensive patio door. Daddy whapped his ankle against the metal door frame and exclaimed in pain.
“Daddy bumped his foot.”
“I’m sorry,” you said between spoonfuls.
I was astonished by the level of empathy from a 31 months-old toddler.
Tears welling with love and pride, I rushed over to hug you.
Sticky and covered in ice cream, you hugged me back with a spoon in one hand and a soggy cone in the other.
“You got a boo-boo?”
“Daddy is okay, sweety. Dadddy is okay.”