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Fixing your toy. “Blue.”

“It not working.”

“Let me see. Do you need me to fix it?”

It was in fact not working and had fallen silent. 

It spent some time outside, and you’re rough with the moving parts (which don’t move anymore), so I’m surprised it makes any sounds at all.

“Fix it daddy. I help,” you said as you ran into the kitchen.

You came running back with the last two batteries in a pack. 

“Hold on, we need a screwdriver.”

“Ok,” you said, running back to the kitchen. 

“Let Daddy get it,” I said, following you in.

Your little hands were pawing through the tool drawer, where you got the batteries.

“Look,” I said, holding up a screwdriver.

“Hmmm?” That’s what you say sometimes when I know you’re listening. “Hmmm?”

“This is a blade head and this is a Phillips head.”
I held one up. “Which one is this?”



We went on to change the batteries, “I’m helping Daddy,” you yelled joyfully. The toy made music again.

The experience will long be remembered as the time you identified a green and black handled Phillips head screw driver as, “blue.”

Swim class

“The water’ll make your boo-boo feel better,” you said into the silence.

We were on our way to swim class. Daddy and Mommy talked about swimming with you afterwards. But Daddy had poison ivy on my forehead, and Mommy didn’t feel good and had to stay home. Although we planned to swim, we explained that we wouldn’t.

Daddy’s poison ivy.

“The water’ll make your boo-boo feel better,” you said from the back seat while we were driving.

You’d been quiet for a while and obviously had been thinking about it.

“The pool water wouldn’t be good on it,” Daddy said.

“You can wear a Band-Aid,” you quickly suggested.

“It’s too big for a Band-Aid.”

“Oh, okay.”

You have an incredibly kind heart.

Swim class appeared to be a success.

Retrieving the ring from the bottom.