building skyscrapers in the living room

She smiled at me and said, “Come on, Papa, let’s go.”

It was her favorite phrase when I was around and I was again reminded that three year old little girls are by nature casually bossy (but never in a mean spirited way, of course, they’re just impatient when the world…and especially the old people in the world…are unable to match the seemingly boundless source of energy and enthusiasm that they almost always have their beck and call.)

“Where are we going, baby?” I asked as if the answer really had any bearing on whether or not I was going to go.

She sighed as patiently as she could and held out her tiny hand. “We’re going to build houses,” she said in a tone that let me know in no uncertain terms that I was quite silly for not already knowing something that was so very apparent.

“Come on,” she said, just a bit more insistently. I was again reminded that three year old little girls did not suffer fools, procrastinating grandfathers, or any other slowpokes graciously.

I smiled to myself and rose from the sofa. I took her hand and we were off.

We stepped out of the living room and into bountiful fields of her bright imagination…building skyscrapers out of dominoes and Scrabble tiles and then gleefully leveling those same constructs…she being as delighted by the destruction as she was by the construction…only to rebuild them taller and more ornate and repeat the whole process again.

And so it went until the time to build skyscrapers passed and, just like that, the time to hunt for treasure was at hand.

“Come on, Papa,” she said, her eyes twinkling softly, “let’s go.”

And we were off…