Grace likes to look at my blog. We talk about the pictures, and sometimes I tell her stories about the photos.
This evening, we were looking at the picture of the giraffe on my Broken post, and I was trying to extract some information about Grace’s fall.
What happen that baby giraffe?
“I think he fell down on the porch. What do you think happened to him?”
My think he fell down on porch. No, he fell down in doorway.
“In the doorway? Did he hit his leg on the door?”
Yeah. He hit him’s leg on the door.
“Do you think it hurts?”
Yeah. Him’s leg hurts.
I’m not sure if Grace knew we were talking about her leg or if she thought we were talking about the giraffel’s.
Mommy, my didn’t get my purple one!
“Your purple what, Pumpkin?”
My purple that! she said, pointing to the giraffe’s green cast. The doctor no fix my leg!
I didn’t know she remembered. We’d talked briefly about her getting a cast, and that it could be purple. I’d been trying to prevent her from being scared during the process of getting a cast.
The doctor no inspect me!
For the next few minutes, Grace told my sister and I that the doctor didn’t fix her leg because he hadn’t touched her leg.
I felt like an idiot. That was not information that she needed to know.
I need to be more careful of what I say and when I say it.
She’s listening, and she doesn’t forget.
Photo courtesy of izik on Flickr
© 2009, Tara Ziegmont. All rights reserved.