Every once in awhile E will call downstairs after we’ve left for the night and ask to go to the bathroom again, or have one last drink, or some other stalling technique. For the most part she’s abandoned this tactic since we always get that drink of water, take the last potty and remember to turn on both bathroom lights and reset her reading light one last time before we bid our fond farewells. I’m usually out the door to squeeze in a few miles around the park before dark, and so M is the one that handles the occasional “extra”. Tonight was particularly lively.
First, she had to go to the bathroom. Fair enough. We have all been consuming our weight in juicy red watermelon each night at dinner.
Next came the question. He had just returned back downstairs and heard her call his name from the third floor. We always conduct these Q & A sessions from this distance.
“Um, Dad? Where did you get my blanket?”
“My blanket. The one with the bees. Where did you get it?”
“I don’t know honey, I don’t remember. Why does it matter?”
“Did you really get this is China? Because the tag says it was made in China? You got it there?“
He said her tone was sort of odd, like she was accusing us of going some place exotic without her. Some place halfway around the world. Some place with bee blankets for sale.
So she found us out. As soon as she’s asleep we head out into this vast world without her. And while we are out there… we shop.