Stalling

From the Back Stall, Men’s Room, Newark Int’l Airport, Monday 7:47 PM.

Little Kid: “Ewww. Water’s everywhere.”

Tired Dad: “Ignore it. Remember, don’t touch anything. Nothing.”

LK: “What’s this?”

TD: “WHAT? I JUST SAID… I just said don’t touch anything!”

LK: “It’s wet.”

TD: “NO! I… uh… just stand still. We’ll wash your hands as soon as we get out.”

(long pause)

TD: “WAIT! NO! DON’T… aww, man… don’t touch your face. Please don’t touch your face. Oh God, your mom’s gonna kill me. I’m dead. I’m dead. Wait. No. It’s OK, we’ll just… YOU MUST STOP TOUCHING YOUR FACE.”

(long pause)

LK: “My nose itches.”

TD: (loud sigh)

TD: “You’re getting booster shots tomorrow.”

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Getting a grip

Little Miss Thing (2.5 years old) is climbing all the most difficult obstacles at the playground, as if mocking my over-protective nature. I’ve decided that this is a good exercise in not letting my fears and assumptions limit her potential.

So I’m not telling her to stick to the easy ones, despite the gripping fear in my stomach.

To her credit, she is proving to be significantly more adept than I would have imagined. In fact, she’s a really good climber. If we live through this, it will clearly be good for both of us.