“You did it!”
This is the best $10 spent at IKEA ever.
Gabe flips the toy over. It features ten colored pegs. A small wooden hammer is used to pound each peg to the other side. One by one he pounds them down.
He really is good at it. Rarely does he miss a peg.
“You did it!” Gabe exclaims this every time. Usually, I repeat it with equal enthusiasm. I like him to know that I care.
Once. Once today I was preoccupied. I had been dulled into sleepiness by the junior novellization of the Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs movie. Isaac loves the book, and apart from its mind-numbing prose I think it’s a decent way to spend time with him on a Sunday afternoon.
“You did it!”
I fail to respond.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Gabe stand, step forward, and throw.
I suppose I had it coming. Gabe’s celebratory hammer throw caught me right on the cheek.
It hurt.
It is really hard to scold a kid who is so very proud of himself.
And he should be proud.
It was a good throw.
