When my grand-daughter Tavi was four she was with me when we had a 40 foot container delivered. It began raining so the truck driver stayed in the cab until it passed a few minutes later. Next to his cab on the driver’s side was a big mud-hole.
Tavi would jump up in it about three times then dive in it, then do it again. Before seeking shelter in the nearby barn I told the driver to “Keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t get wet.” You should have seen the look he gave me.
When she was about one her mother taught her some basic sign language. One was indeed a gift from god for it was the brushing of her hands like she was wiping them. It meant “I am finished” This stopped a lot of table arguments because when she signed it the fighting stopped and she was released from her high chair.
Next Mommy put her in a swimming class. The teacher pulled her under water several times to teach her that she could hold her breath. The third time she came up violently wiping her hands and hollering “Daddy!” That was baby talk for “I’m done with this crap now get me the hell outta here!”
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