Lego My Kitty

We’ve been staying in a lovely resort in beautiful Banff, Alberta. This resort has everything. Comfortable rooms with every amenity. Pool. Sauna. Play rooms. Workout rooms. Squash courts. Tennis courts. Mountain bike borrowing. Nearby everything. And happy, helpful people.

The only thing it lacks is a strong internet connection.

Sorry for my rather spotty interaction in the past weeks.

I’ve missed our daily conversations.

On with my story . . .

 

Okay. Now picture it lost.

The Lego Kitty was lost.

The world had ended.

Everything is a tragedy when you’re three.

And Little Girl (LG) is three.

I told LG that: It would show up. When she cleaned up.

“But I don’t want to clean up,” she told me with little girl logic.

I countered with old lady logic. “Well, when you’re done playing, you will have to clean up.”

The small lower lip came out and she turned away and continued to play.

Sometime later, we were packing the apartment for the inevitable checking-out.

Sigh.

Lego kitty still hadn’t had the grace or good manners to shown up.

Tears threatened at the thought of leaving the minuscule – but highly important – toy behind.

A search was initiated. With little success.

I repeated my mantra. “It’ll show up. When you clean up.”

Fortunately, Mom had my back. She nodded. “Let's try it. Let’s clean up.”

Sighing heavily, the now-put-upon LG started picking up her Legos.

In a short time, all were safely stowed in their handy-dandy little Lego-shaped box. The floor lay, pristine and clean.

Still no kitty.

I could see the doubt starting in the big, hazel eyes.

“Okay,” I said, “Let’s move the sofa!”

Mom pushed and I pulled and VOILA a little, gray kitty appeared.

LG pounced on it and held it up triumphantly. “It’s here!” She crowed happily. “When you clean up, it shows up!” She tucked the toy in with its brothers and sisters and packed her box away.

I looked at her mother and we both smiled.

Once in a while, you have a good parenting moment.

And sometimes, you have to wait a while. A generation, in fact.

I’ll take it.