At half seven, Little S came to see me for our pre-bedtime ritual of “kiss questions”. I ask her questions. If she gets them right she gets a kiss. If she gets them wrong she gets tickled. Little S generally prefers to get them all wrong.
She jumped up on my knee and I started with a Fathers Day theme:
“Which little girl whose name begins with ‘S’ made me very very happy today?”
She put her hand up: “Me!” I gave her a big squeeze and the obligatory kiss.
“But I also made you a bit sad” she said. She looked into my eyes and then looked down.
“How?”
“When I was in church I didn’t do what you told me to.”
Another little breaking of my heart. I told her she hadn’t made me sad. The only thing that could make me sad would be her being sad. She tucked her head into my shoulder.
