That’d be a good title I’d thought as I looked at the child who couldn’t yet speak. Going from one thing to another, throwing things on the floor not even playing just running his hand along the shelf for the sake of knocking everything off then moving on to the next full shelf. Are we having fun yet? Is this fun? I wanted to get shoes and socks on. Not me, them. After all it’s getting close to time. What if I said please although it’d mean nothing to you, them, but to someone. Who? And why does thinking of it make me feel warm? You know that kind of inviting warmth like there’s something to it that it’s directed at something… someone… reaching. Again someone. There is no one.
But what if I said please?