Playing a fun game with Five, in which he ran the length of the kitchen to be trapped between my legs, I tried to teach him that there was a secret password to gain his freedom: open sesame. In the mind of a not-quite-three-year-old, this became "Open sesa-you".
"How many books does one person need, anyway?" asked Number One Nephew, who is always to be found with a book in hand, on his fourth trip up the stairs carrying a box of books.
Having recently moved to a new house, we of course had to make a trip to The Swedish Store, for a new house has new storage needs. It was an hour long drive there, and a very long wait for lunch, and then a many more hours of touring the displays in crowded conditions. All the Peanuts were ever so good, particularly Five who was perched in the seat of the shopping cart. While grown-ups (especially the women) can go into raptures over tea towels, duvet covers and lampshades, there isn't much to appeal to a small boy. We neared the check out at last, but were stalled in the vast warehouse where stacks of brown boxes reach to the rafters, trying to find the particular white shelf we were after. Finally, in desperation, and in perfect, grown-up seriousness, Five announced, "Mummy, are you ever gonna talk to me? I can't do this all day!"
They break your heart, these little people do.