Danny had a tough time tonight. Couldn’t finish dinner, didn’t get desert, had to go to bed early. He cried and cried. He tried everything he could to get out of bed, even volunteered to eat pineapple. Nothing worked.
I drew a picture of a crying boy on the kids’ Mac. Danny quieted down, watching from his bed. “What’s this?” I asked, pointing to the tear on the little boy’s face.
“Water,” Danny said.
“Where did it come from?”
“That little boy’s eye.”
“Why is the little boy sad?” I asked.
“His father… because his father put him in bed.”
Then I erased the tear, surrounded the frown, and flipped it over. “Why is he happy now?” I asked.
“His father read him a book.”
(Clever boy.)
Then I added his big bird doll who sleeps with him, and drew in closed eyes. “Now what happened?”
“He went to sleep… Can you print that?”
That is the cutest thing I’ve ever read. Did that really happen?