Norah isn’t the worst at going to bed, but she isn’t the best either. Usually she makes odd demands to prolong her time awake: to go “pp toilet” after she just finished, for her baby dolls which she could care less for during the day, and her favorite “more cheese” (Usually it’s something specific and elaborate for a two-year old, like “one big cheese and one little cheese” or “white cheese and yellow cheese.”)
Tonight she asked for a third round of cheese and I lied to her and told her we were all out.
“Buy it” is always her answer.
“O.K.”
Then somehow I carelessly mentioned that I was going to the store after she went to sleep. Hilary had already gone to bed. I left out the front door shortly later and drove to the grocery store and bought a couple things and came home about 25 minutes later. As I pulled up I noticed a dark area in Norah’s window contrasting with the beige curtains. That’s a funny shadow, I thought to myself, how weird would that be if it was Norah on the inside of the curtain, watching the neighborhood?
As I walked up to the front door, I hear a muffled voice say “daddy.”
I jumped. After I finished feeling spooked I felt impressed by her fortitude to have knelt in the windowsill in the three-inch space between the glass and the curtain for who knows how long, watching the night fall on her front yard.
Still standing outside, I asked her, “What are you doing Norah?”
“Watching out the window.”
From our conversation after I came inside, I realized that from inside her window she had watched me leave and had been waiting for me to go to the store, buy some cheese, come back, cut her a slice, and bring it in to her bedroom.
So I gave her cheese and a cracker.
