This morning, Rebecca told me: “I want to go home”. Confused, I replied: “But we are home. This is where we live.” She shook her head. “Um, no.” So… “This doesn’t feel like home to you?” “Um, no.” I asked: “Then where do you want to live?” “I don’t know.”
I’m still confused by this exchange; maybe she is too. Did she dream about living somewhere else? Did she mean she wanted to drive somewhere and then come back home? Or is it just the language barrier acting up? I know that sometimes children have incredible insights and leaps of logic as well as creativity, but are unable to express it in words. I remember being a child and having an amazing thought but not having the words to explain it.
Before lunch, she helped me pull a few weeds in front and down one side of the house. She carried the bucket and put the weeds in it as I pulled them. She also helped me aerate a large chunk of the yard.
I may have mentioned that Rebecca likes knock-knock jokes. After supper she told me “Knock, knock!” As always, I responded: “Who’s there?” This time, her answer was: “Poopie!” I had a sinking feeling as I said: “Poopie who?” “Poopie in my die tah!” She thought it was a hilarious way to announce it to me.
In the evening, Rebecca and I played catch for the first time — with the pink ball that Granny Fry gave her for her first birthday. In the past, she’s thrown it to me fairly well, and always enjoys retrieving it when I throw it back. But this time she was more successful at grabbing at my little throws. By bath time (she’s still insisting on taking a shower for some reason), she was catching throws from 2-3 feet away.
WEATHER: 44-73°F, sunny