a dialogue with dada

Our five year-old strikes again.
The other day she was playing with her mama’s fake fur slippers. She started pulling small wisps of fur and soon the carpet was covered with these small pink balls of fur.

Realizing that she has made a mess in the family room and her mama would not be happy to see that, she went to the garage to get a cleaning brush and a dust pan. Her Dada who was also watching, told her to get the broom with hard bristles. That was the only way to pick the fur. She went and brought the broom. Then Dada told her again to put the dust pan and the brush back where she got them from as they were getting in her way.

She paused and slowly turned towards Dada, poised on one foot, holding the broom twice her height and said, “Dada, there is only one ‘me’. I cannot be here and there too. Let me finish this first.”

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