“Mama, you would get me a white blindfold,” Brooke says, as she walks the perimeter of the den.
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
“You would get me a blindfold that is WHITE,” she says, running her fingers lightly along the windowsill as she passes by.
“I’m sorry, love,” I begin. “I’m not sure what you mean. I don’t think we have a white blindfold in the house.”
“Mama,” she says, now making her way around the couch, “you would get me a piece of paper that is white with a hole in it the biggest.”
“Hmm, umm, OK, honey, I’m still not sure what it is that you’re looking for,” I say, hoping for a clue.
“Mama, COULD you get me a white piece of paper please?”
“Of course, love. You asked very nicely. Great job.”
I head into the office and return with a white piece of paper.
“Mama, you would cut a hole in it the biggest like this,” she says, tracing a big circle in the air with her finger.
“OK, love. You want me to cut a hole in the middle?”
I fold the paper and cut a circle in the center. I then hold it up in front of my face to show her the finished product. I peer at her through the hole, hoping for a sign of approval.
“Well THAT’S not a good blindfold,” she says as she walks out of the room.
I stand alone in the den, looking at the world through the worst blindfold ever, at a complete loss as to what just happened.