A few years back, Frith and I started asking the kids some questions each night.
“What was your favourite thing about today?”
“What was your least favourite thing about today?”
And more recently,
“Was there anything about today that worried you?”
We would normally do this at dinner time, but as of this year, obviously, it’s been a bit hard to keep on top of our usual routine. And I certainly haven’t had a lot of opportunity to ask these questions of Chance or Quinn on their own.
Tonight, at 8pm, Chance sidled up to me and said he wanted to go to bed. I took him upstairs, he brushed his teeth, and I tucked him in to bed. We had some cuddles and I asked him what his favourite thing about today was.
“uuuuummmmm playing my switch?” (Nintendo)
Whaaaaaat? He had had the day with his uncle Jacques and cousin Josie and his Poppy (Frith’s Dad) mostly in the pool or on the beach! I gave him some curry about it, but realised he was joking a bit as well.
What was his least favourite thing? Nothing. He said “absolutely nothing.”
The third question. “Was there anything about today that worried you?”
Chance: “There was one thing that worried me.”
Oh my gosh. What is it? What’s happened? Did you overhear my talking about Dadda? Has that made you sad? Did someone say something or do something to upset you? Did I upset you? Are you hurting? Is your heart breaking because you miss your Dadda? Tell me. I’m here for you sweetheart. Oh my gosh I want to protect you. I need to protect you. Tell me anything and everything.
All of these thoughts rushed through my head in a second. I asked my boy, my sweet not-so-little boy, what worried him about today.
“I was worried when Darby hurt himself.”
Relief and gratitude and pride and joy swept over me in an instant. Darby had stepped on something sharp near the pool and his toe had bled (a fair bit) just before dinner. (He’s fine now.) I gave Chance the biggest squashy cuddle, just overjoyed at his empathy and concern for his brother, and he started giggling like crazy.
“What are you laughing about?” I asked innocently.
“You squeezed me so hard that I farted!!”
A job well done I’d say.