I was talking on the phone to Wally. The boys were watching a movie. Tornado A was playing cars. A perfect time to slip upstairs to my bedroom and get away. I kicked off my shoes and plopped on my bed, relishing the girl talk.
Not too much later, Tornado A came toddling in. He lifted his arms, and I pulled him up onto the bed. He rolled around and threw himself into the pillows. Growing bored of that game, he slid off the bed, noticing my shoes.
He handed me my hiking boot. I put it on my bed beside me. He handed me the other one. I put it on the bed next to the first. He looked at me. He pulled the shoes, one at a time, off the bed. He handed me one again. I put it on the bed. He handed me the other boot. I put it on the bed. He pulled hem off the bed again. He looked at me.
He handed me a boot. I put it on the bed. He picked up my foot, trying to hand it to me. Oh. I put my boot on. Tornado A smiled and clapped. He handed me the other boot. I put it on. He smiled and clapped. Then he looked at me again. He squatted and patted my boot on the tongue. Oh. Gottcha. I laced up and tied my shoes. He smiled and clapped. He patted my other shoe. I laced up and tied my other shoe. He smiled and clapped.
He stood back, smiled, and nodded as though to say “Mama, I’m proud that you finally got it.” The he toddled out of the room.
I got the feeling that Tornado A has concluded I’m slow learner.