A Story And A Mouth Full Of Minty Foam
The other day I was in the bathroom for my morning routine of washing my face, brushing my teeth, etc. Ruben (my son) was already dressed with teeth cleaned, so he was in the living room getting out his toys to start a day of carefree playing and potty training. Life is so much simpler when you're nearly 3 years old. Just as I started brushing my teeth I heard Ruben calling from the living room: "Pappa, can you weed me a tohwy!?" (Translation: Daddy, can you read me a story?) I was caught with a toothbrush gently carressing my molars and a mouth full of minty foam, so I couldn't answer him straight away. He obviously repeated the question... in exactly the same way... with exactly the same intonation. "Pappa, can you weed me a tohwy!?" "Pappa, can you weed me a tohwy!?" "Pappa, can you weed me a tohwy!?" "Pappa, can you weed me a tohwy!?" "Pappa, can you weed me a tohwy!?" This continued at a steady tempo, almost metro...