Frisbee

I'm sitting on the couch unwinding before bed, and The Princess bounds into the room. She fixes me with her baby blues and presents me with a miniature neon orange-and-green frisbee.

Huh. Okay.

I thank her, and she plops her tushie down in her Winnie the Pooh armchair. After a minute or two, I feel her eyes on me. I look up and smile, and I swear she rolls her eyes.

Ever so slowly, she gets up and walks over to me. She looks at the frisbee in my lap, then looks me in the eye. Frisbee, eye. Apparently, I'm being daft, but - for the life of me - I can't figure out what I've missed here.

She deliberately holds eye contact with me while reaching down and grabbing the frisbee. Never looking away, she carefully turns the frisbee over until it resembles a bowl, and places it in my hand. She gives me one last look before walking back to her chair and plopping down once again.

Oh.

It's a bowl.

I get it now.

There's no bowl in the room, and she's hungry. So she's found something similar and made a connection. And essentially explained this fact to me with the patience of a veteran school teacher.

She can be so creative. And me? I'm just so proud.