He knows where we are

We were playing together in the downstairs recreation room —Peter and his sister Jody and I. Being almost three, Peter talked in whole questions, and with heaps of curiosity about everything. ("Can we make a very tall building?" "What is that bug doing over there?" "Tell me how the piano works.")

Jody walked and sang but didn't exactly talk; she chirped like the swallows outside. Her interest span focused on putting objects in her mouth and untying shoelaces.

When it was time to take Jody upstairs for a change of diapers, I told Peter carefully, making sure he heard me, that we would be right back and he could come up too when he wanted.

Enjoy 1 free Sentinel article or audio program each month, including content from 1898 to today.

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE
Poem
The no-ending song
October 19, 1987
Contents

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit