My blissful Sunday morning sleep was interrupted by a jarring CRASH. I’m still groggy and blinking the sleep from my eyes when the bedroom door opens.
Cookie holding out a hand: Everything is ok.
Cookie: Do you know what that crash was?
Mommy and I sleepily shake our heads.
Cookie: That was my Rubik’s Cube. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it with my tools.
The sounds of your little footsteps running down the hall are followed immediately by the sounds of hammering.
Three warring thoughts enter my head.
I’m so proud that you’re going to know your way around tools. I tend to fix things around the house, and you’ve always followed me around asking to help, and you’ve always been disappointed when I asked you not to touch the heavy or sharp tools and the less than healthy chemicals (responsible parenting isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be). After we bought you your own toolset, however, you proudly carried that thing around the house looking for to fix. That’s my girl.
Proud as I am, there’s a little nagging worry in my head (I’m such the responsible parent, as you know) about that loud crash. What happened? What did you break? You’re obviously not extensively injured, since you walked over and told us so. There’s no smell of smoke. I guess I don’t feel so bad if I…
Sleep. Blissful sleep… for three more minutes.