Sometimes 15 Minutes is an Eternity

So in my last post, I moaned about how I hate not getting enough time with my kids because of work. But then last night I was reminded to make the most of those minutes I do get. I got home at 7:45, just 15 minutes before we put Julia down. Ben was already out. I sat down on the couch immediately and pulled Julia on my lap and grabbed the book she wanted, Corduroy.

The story is the tale of a little stuffed bear that wants to be taken home from the store. There is a line in the story about a night watchman “dashing” down the elevator. But in my rush to read the book, I changed “dashing” to “rushing,” figuring, what’s the big deal? Who’s going to know? It’s not like my 3-year old can read. The second I finished the sentence, Julia stopped me. “Daddy, why did you say rushing and not dashing?” I gulped. Caught. “Um, I’m sorry, Julia, you’re right. It’s dashing.”

I then re-read the line and finished the book. I couldn’t believe her attention to detail and memory. She has heard this book maybe a dozen times. But that single word stuck out for her. And it made those 15 minutes as memorable for me as
any 15-hour stretch I have probably had with her. That’s a story I’ll tell her one day. The day she caught daddy re-writing Corduroy!

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