I hear the padding of footsteps but by that time it’s too late. The bedroom door explodes open---I wonder how it stays on its hinges. With cheetah-like speed, Harper flings herself on the bed---Connor, sprawled at the bottom somehow doesn’t stir---and she asks the question that must have been tormenting her sleep, “Mommy, are we going to the zoo.”
Without the benefit of a spotlight, the interrogation about our upcoming trip continues for five minutes until her eyes close, snuggled tight against Melanie.
6 a.m.
Harper has risen by this time and utilizes her recently height-attained skill of working wall switches, illuminating the room with the bright overhead lights over our groaning protestations. Coaxing her to turn the light back off in favor of my side lamp, Harper plops back on the sheets and the Q&A session with her groggy mother resumes.
It’s fun to see the onset of inquisitiveness and the ability to express what she wants to know. Our budding zoologist Connor still has his thirst for knowledge, especially in the animal kingdom realm, but he’s been at it for years and I’ve probably taken it for granted.
I like to think of myself as a
man of words, but hearing her pronounce things wrong is still one of the cutest
things ever. I’ll just throw random words at her at times just to see what she’ll
come up with. She may be on to my tricks, though, instead of saying spaghetti,
she substitutes pasta.
And it's interesting to hear what she comes up with. When I surfaced for air at the pool the other night, she told me I had “monkey hair.” That was fair.
No comments:
Post a Comment