Mr ThreeNearlyFour is with us for a few days, so life becomes faster and noisier in the blink of an eye, and there are a few blinks in the normal course of our day. We have never underestimated the differences between boys and girls, well not for a long long time, but our entire experience of child rearing did not include more than a glimpse into the ways of little men.
Being woken to "Can we go into the workshop now?" is not something to which I am accustomed.
A few minutes later, while I was detained in the course of my morning ablutions he was caught by his grandmother and mother sitting in front of my computer where quite randomly and coincidentally the screen saver had captured an album of tools and projects I'd photographed over the years. Again we are not accustomed to seeing small children transfixed as a bandsaw morphs into a patternmaker's vice over layed by a carpenter's square, let alone hearing a running commentary on what was appearing.
It was, however, late in the course of our breakfast that really set the tone for the day.
"Papa..."
"You're my friend."
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