While we were at centerparcs, as previously mentioned, we went out for dinner. As he’d done many times on our way to and from places, Small rode there on his scooter. This was a particularly well equipped scooter, with tools, especially a hammer, attached.
On the way back to our little house, walking along holding someone’s hand, he suddenly started wailing. Eventually it was possible to determine that the problem was that he had forgotten his scooter. Tim and I exchanged looks, and then in a soothing voice, I said “it’s alright, Daddy will go back for your scooter”.
And he did, and returned moments later, wheeling a lovely scooter along. Unfortunately, it was the wrong one.
Don’t ask me how this is possible, I’m not sure I know!
Small’s imagination frequently amazes me. Tonight he sat and narrated a story out of one of our many Dr Seuss books to me. It was “What was I scared of” and the pictures are rather wonderful, and he got the story pretty much spot on, apart from calling them trousers instead of pants.
Wonder when he’s just going to start reading – I’d guess going on past performance, it’ll be a while yet. In fact, knowing him, he’ll wait until I’m ready to call in the marines, and then start reading fluently.
Gotta love that boy.
Leave a Reply