November 2020

Last night, Cora got tired of eating her dinner. She wanted attention, not food. She tried pleasant conversation to start with. “How was yowa day, Mommy? Have a good day at wok, Mommy?” she asked.

“Yes, I had a good day, thank you for asking. I saw lots of sick people, and one of the sick people-”

“How was yowa day, Mommy?” she asked again, in her sweetest voice.

“It was very nice, thank you.”

“You go to wok today, Mommy?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I go to school today.”

“How was school today?”

“Dud!” she exclaimed happily.

“I’m so glad it was good!” We entered into a discussion of her day, and who was at school, and what everyone played with. But when the discussion was over, my attention went to Annie, who had things to say too.

Cora Rose waited a few seconds, and then stood up in her chair, standing on top of her booster seat. She smiled at everyone.

“Sit down, or you’ll fall down and bonk your head,” I told her. 

She just looked at me. “‘Sit, puppy,’” she instructed.

“Sit, puppy,” I echoed, as she wanted me to do. I tried to turn my attention back to Annie. Cora laughed and pretended to sit down, but instead sat on the top of the back support of her booster seat. 

“Stop that. Sit in your chair. Do you want more food?”

“No,” she said, and shifted her weight onto the armrest of the chair, an even more precarious position. Annie was talking but I couldn’t listen to her.

“Sit in your seat or I will put you down on the ground,” I said.

Cora squatted on top of her booster seat.

I turned my attention back to Annie, and then got up to get Annie something from the kitchen. 

“I want to dump the water on the table,” said Cora Rose.

I was only half paying attention as I was trying to concentrate on Annie, who was still talking.

Cora Rose picked up her full cup of water and upended it onto the center of the tablecloth. Then she looked at me and smiled.