My iPhone rang. Five-year-old Abigail appeared on the screen. “Nana, will you tell me a story?”
Three-year-old Annalise popped into view. Both girls looked expectant. They smiled simultaneously when I picked up The Tortoise and The Hare.
With my phone positioned so I could see the girls, I turned the camera so they only saw the book. As I turned each page, they stood like statues. Before long we blew kisses and said, “Good bye.”
The truth of slow-and-steady hovered over me until a thought bounced me backward.
All three of us enjoyed long-distance story time. They’re growing up. I should do this more often.
One day passed. I heard a familiar ringtone.
“Annalise wants to know if you’ll read to her again.”
I picked up the book and positioned it as I had the day before. The vivid pictures were in full view for Annalise.
Without Abigail’s spell-bound example, Annalise wasn’t into the story. She fidgeted and wanted a drink of water.
With lots of emphasis, I continued to read. As I turned a page she shouted, “I see your hand, I see you hand. Nana, that’s your hand!”
Annalise giggled. This wasn’t a magical, auto-page-turning book after all.
I wiggled my fingers and waved. Finally attentive, Annalise enjoyed my hand antics.
When we finished, I asked, “Are you more like the turtle or the rabbit?”
“The turtle.”
I should have congratulated her, breathed a sigh of relief, and pretended we’ll all live happily ever after.
Instead I elaborated, “The turtle focused on the race. He kept going s-l-o-w and steady. He won. The rabbit ran fast. Played. And ate lunch. He lost.”
She changed her answer: “The rabbit.”
I wasn’t surprised.
Do you like a hopping good time?