|Clara's Self Portrait.|
Last night Freya was asleep in her crib. I did Clara's normal bedtime routine - some conversation and some songs. I kissed and hugged her goodnight and a minute later over the monitor I heard: Mom...Mom?
I walk back into the kids' bedroom.
Clara: Mom. I have to ask you something. Are the police ever going to come get me and put me in jail?
Me: Uhm. No, Clara.
Clara: What if I do something bad?
Me: Clara, little kids don't go to jail. It's a grown up thing.
Clara: O.K. Mom, good night.
I leave. A couple minutes later, over the monitor: Mom...Mom? I walk back in.
Me: What is it Clara?
Clara: Are you and Dad ever going to go to jail?
Me: No, Clara - I promise you we will never go to jail.
Clara: And you were just kidding before about calling the police?
(Clara at this point is referring to earlier in the evening when she had strawberry ice cream all over her face and I was jokingly saying: "Clara - go wipe off your face before I call the Strawberry Hobo Beard Police on you.")
Me: Clara, do you seriously think there is a Strawberry Hobo Beard police that might come get you?
Clara: (smiling) Noo.
Me: Clara - you don't need to worry. None of us are going to jail.
Clara: Except tigers. Tigers go to jail because they scare people.
Me: Good night Clara.
|Enjoying one of the last hot days before Fall closes in.|