Our youngest daughter erupted in floods of tears this morning after her older sister refused to play Mario Kart with her. I heard the silent stomping through the house, the muffled thud as she hit the couch in the playroom, and then the wail of noise.
Mid cry, I appeared in the doorway, and held up “the tickle finger”. Instant end to the tears. It’s not difficult.”How about some breakfast?”We trooped off to the kitchen, and made two rounds of toast with peanut butter and chocolate spread on. While she tucked into it I fetched a glass of milk and delivered it to the table alongside her.”Thamf Dad”, she sputtered through a gummed up mouthful of peanut butter.
I wandered back into the kitchen, filled the kettle up, switched it on, and then turned the local radio station on. The rhythm of “Night Fever” by the BeeGees filled the kitchen, andknowing she could see me through the kitchen door from the dining tableI started dancing around the kitchen.
What started as half giggles at my antics turned into not being able to eat her toast because she was laughing too much. Laughing, and wanting to come dance too.
We did the final chorus together in the kitchen, her in her pyjamas, showing off our cheesiest dance moves.
Good times.