Gate 8

There was a gap in time today before where I had my daughter alone.   It happened to be a time when I was hungry and I knew my daughter hadn’t had lunch.   I came into the living room and said to her, “do you want to go to the fair?”   She said yes, got up and put socks and shoes on and was waiting for me at the garage door in five minutes—before I was even ready. 

I told her it wasn’t going to be for long, which was okay with her.   We parked, went through the tunnel towards the entrance when my daughter said, “are we going to Gate 8?”   I looked and saw, “GATE 8” in large letters right above the area we were heading.  

I’ve been going to that gate almost all my life and I had no idea it was Gate 8.   Why did my daughter know?   Because she couldn’t see it.   Because the rest of us rely on what things look like and where they are in position to other things we know.  My daughter relies on memories, sounds and how things feel.

It’s interesting going places with a child who has a blind cane.   You get things for free or extra or upgrades—even if you don’t want them.   We got more corn on the cob than she and I could easily hold and eat at the same time because they wanted to give her extra.   (She didn’t finish the one corn, much less two.  Fortunately, I was hungry.)

My daughter didn’t want to ride rides, but she did want to play games.   She wanted to win her father a Fortnite Llama.   There was a problem with this: they were all out.   There had been lots and lots of llamas at the fair on Sunday when we went, but the popularity of Fortnite had wiped out the llama collection. 

My daughter did “win” a game and got a stuffed animal.   She really wanted the next size up, which I didn’t think she needed, but the lady working the stall said she could have it.   

My daughter and I rode the sky chair lift back to Gate 8 and got home in time for my conference call. 

The Big Boy Update:  My husband and I had a meeting with my son and his teacher today.  It was tough on him, mostly because he didn’t want to fail or do poorly.  He had to stay in for two days during playground time to do work because he hadn’t gotten anything done during main work cycle.   (Not something that will happen normally, it was only to let him see the importance of work during work time.)  My son had in his pocket something he’d been fiddling with.   It turned out it was a pencil he snapped in half when he was angry about having to stay in and work.   He later in the car told us he had more strength when he was angry.   He would never have been able to break the pencil when he was happy. 

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter asked the date today and then figured how many days it would be until Halloween.   Then she told me, “and that means Halloween is on a Wednesday.”   She’s doing all sorts of calculations in her head.   She thinks a lot.