“That’s YOUR owange. That’s MY owange!”
“Thanks, Baby! Do you want help opening your orange?”
“No! I dooed it by myself!”
“Ok, then.”
… five minutes later…
“Daaadddyy I need HELP!!”
He takes her orange and makes a hole in the skin. Just big enough to get a little finger into. All the while she dances beside him, unable to contain her excitement. She loves peeling them more than she loves eating them.
He hands the orange back to her and she gets to work. Little head bent down over a little orange. She gets that focused look in her eyes. She loves these little tasks. Pulling the skin apart from the fruit, you’d think it was the most fun she had in years (goodness I hope it’s not).
Suddenly she looks up. She drops the orange and rubs her eyes.
“Uh oh. Did the orange squirt juice in your eyes?”
“Yes.” she says, rubbing. I wait for the tantrum.
But instead, a look of determination appears.
“Oh my goodness. I need my sunglasses!”
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