Where does your dad live?

Bob and Sally have their three year old twin red head grandchildren visiting this week. Violet- a spunky red head darling- seems to catch me every time I am in my yard or driveway. Our conversations always start with a very profound question: "Where does your Dad live?" Each time I have no idea how to tell a three year old Denver-resident that he lives an hour west of the Chicago-land area. She looks at me with a mix of wonder and confusion. Today I realized that I think she thinks Ben is my dad. Hmmm...

After the awkward Dad issue is cleared up, she runs around my garden with a pretend hose and waters all my plants. "Did you see? I watered this pretty one really good! Did you know that this one (cone flower) has spikes? That could be dangerous!" Maybe tomorrow I will make use of this energy and give her a real hose. She sits in my reading chair under the tree and tells me how nice my tree really is. Do I have a cat? Where is he? Why is he sleeping? Can she go inside and see? Do I have a book we could read under the tree? Could she have some leaves? Did I know that some of the leaves are turning brown? I watch her tiny little body fit perfectly in my favorite reading chair and now I wonder why I didn't go running upstairs to grab my cat Max and a copy of "Where the Wild Things Are" to share. Maybe tomorrow I will go see if Violet wants to come out to play. I'm beginning to think it would be fun.