Archives for July 2014


Often, I will be working in the home office, and you two want to play.  The door locks to create the illusion that by keeping you out, at least temporarily, I can be productive.  More often than not, you both play just outside the door, despite it being in a small hallway with little space to move.

One time, I opened the door only to see that you were both constructing a massive pile of pillows, toys, chairs, and anything that you could get hold of in an effort to reach up to the latch above the door so that you could get in.

On another occasion, Anna, you were sitting outside the door singing one of the songs from Frozen about “Do You Want To Build a Snowman?”  Once or twice, it’s a cute song, except that we have heard it hundreds of times in our house.  Oh, but you were just so cute, belting out that part about “I never see you anymore, come out the door, it’s like you’ve gone away.”

And sucker that I am sometimes, I opened the door. I looked down at your little body sitting on the floor, you looked up at me with your soft blue eyes, a Cheshire grin spread across your face, then you triumphantly said “Gothcha!”  Now, I know that children are almost genetically programmed to find buttons and discover new ways to get what they want.  But that Gotcha had so much satisfaction and glee in your voice that I have to wonder about the level of deliberate planning or conscious choice you were making when you did it.

I don’t like some of the almost Machiavellian aspects that it might imply, but the truth is, my dear child, that you had me since before you were even born.