Thursday, February 20, 2014

I Three Years Old

Avery and I head off for an evening walk. 
'There's Frieda's house,' he says. 
'Yes, and who else?' We list the names of Frieda's brothers and parents. It seems like a lot of people for one house, the same number we have in our own home.
'I want to go see Frieda.'
I say it's too late. They'll be finishing their dinner, getting ready for bedtime.
We keep walking. I say, 'And a little boy lives in this house whose the same age as you.'
'Who lives here?' Avery says, as we reach the next house.
'I don't know.'
He wants to walk in the gutter. I like hearing him say 'cutter'. We look for kangaroos and see none, but we see lots of kangaroo poo. We hear birds in the trees, singing their sun going down songs.
We walk a while more and turn around to come home. He wants to go visiting. He picks a house and says let's go there. He says, let's go see Frieda.
I say, 'Everybody's having dinner and getting ready for the bed. It's the end of the day.'
He nods. He says, 'is it the end of the story too?'
Yes. I nod. I say, 'It's the end of the story. It's the end of the story of the day.'

1 comment:

  1. that is a lovely story, and a lovely end to the story of Avery's day.
    I've just noticed you have an Acknowledgement of Country on your blog - what a good idea! will do the same.