On the way home from school today, Annie told me that houses start with blue paper. Blueprints, she meant, of course. It led to a conversation about architects, and who they are and what they do. I told her I was working with an architect at work—maybe our first genuine exchange about what I do at my job. Cool.
During our elaborate bedtime routine, she asked if grown-ups cried, and when I told her yes, she asked what made them cry. (“When Dad takes your things?” she suggested.) We talked about learning what to do with your feelings, and how that takes practice and grown-ups have done a lot of practicing, and that people are more important than things, and all sorts of good stuff. Then she held my hand and said, “I’m happy right now,” and I melted into the floor.