We were on a mission. We needed to get out the door to the grocery store before Baby fell asleep for his morning nap. He was playing on his play mat. Daughter had been instructed to use the bathroom, brush her teeth, and find some shoes. I stepped into the shower for my two-minute shower and dress routine, secretly hoping to stretch it to five.
One minute into the shower, little pink legs appear at the bottom of the glass shower door where I have a towel draped.
Daughter: I went potty!
Me: Good job! (I know she didn’t flush but decide to remind her later and avoid the shocking drop in water pressure.) Now brush your teeth please.
Daughter: I am. (I see a toothbrush and toothpaste flutter past the door as evidence. A little face pushes up to the glass.) A meteor spot can be a fence.
Me: A what can be a what?
Daughter: A meteor spot can be a fenthhhh! (She now has a mouth full of toothpaste.)
Me: Finish your teeth and then tell me, okay?
The shower door pops open. A curly head appears. Daughter is dressed in a ballet leotard, tights, and green light-up sandals. She is not enrolled in a dance class; this is what she has chosen to wear to the store.
Daughter: I said a meteor spot can BE…A…FENCE.
I remember we had talked about meteor showers and shooting stars two days before. She had asked if we could stay up late one night to watch a meteor shower.
Me: I guess you could watch a meteor shower from a fence. (I watch as the last of my steam escapes out the open shower door.)
Daughter: Noo, a meeeeteor spot can be a fence.
Me: Can you say more words?
Daughter: A meteor spot can be a fence…or a neighbor’s house…or a tree.
It finally clicks.
Me: OOOOhhh, a meeting spot!!
Daughter: Yes, the firefighters said a meteor spot can be a fence, house, or tree…or a mailbox.
Me: You’re right. Our meeting spot is the neighbor’s driveway like we talked about.
The door starts to close, then opens again.
Daughter: We should have a fire drill.
Me: Okay, we will tonight when Hero comes home. Now please close the door and finish your teeth.
The shower door slams shut.
Me: How is Baby??
Daughter (skipping out of the bathroom): He’s good! He fell asleep!