On the Early Development of Self-assurance

Flashing back, 2008


The other night Tinkerbell excused herself from dinner to go to the bathroom.  This in itself was nothing remarkable--the interim restroom trip is either Tink's ritual break from having to eat, or her game plan for final escape, or both, depending on the meal.  But she was gone for a long time, and when she came back there was an extra spring in her step. 

"The new toilet paper roll fell in the toilet," she began, but then noticing my stricken face she broke off and added reassuringly, "but I pulled it out again and set it on top."  Which was indeed what I found when I went to look: one super-absorbent roll drooping wetly on top of its holder.  

~

Buttercup likes to climb the stairs.  She likes to go see Daddy in his office; she presumably likes risking life and limb to do so; and she likes getting away from Mommy.  The sense of imminent pursuit adds a dimension of thrill to an already exciting-enough adventure.   Our stair has that convenient sort of door that may be locked and then pulled shut on purpose, and sometimes (less conveniently) is locked and pulled shut by mistake.  Tonight from within the dark and locked stairwell I heard a small muffled voice.  "Mommy? Moooommy?"  I was about to unlock the door and let her out when it dawned on me that this was in fact the perfect opportunity to instill just a little distaste for stair-climbing into Buttercup.  So I stood there and waited.  "Mommy?" the voice inquired once more, and then relapsed into silence.  The silence continued so long that I got impatient and opened the door.  She sauntered out, perfectly calm, with a little nod in my direction. "Thank you much, Mommy," she said.