Donuts on the concrete near the garage. Spinning back in the opposite direction so she doesn’t get dizzy. Because that is what a brother does with a sister in wheels. I wander off to check the letterbox, smiling. As I return she sits at the end of the path with a grin on her face. I notice the garage door is closing. He must have let her have a turn of the button, I think, how sweet. Then I hear it. “Muuuum!” What had I done? The boy is yelling from inside the garage so I check my pockets for the remote as I have often inadvertently pressed it. I don’t have it. She has it. The grinning girl.
Then I remember giving it to her to look after. She so loves to help. Apparently her brother was putting the ramp on our car up and about close the back door when red-headed-ninja struck. He had to kick the garage door to stop it squashing the car. And there she sat. The girl with such limited fine motor skills that she cannot independently draw or play with her doll or hold puzzle pieces had managed to press a small button on a garage remote all by herself…and wasn’t she so pleased about it. She had done something funny and was thrilled! As her brother and I approached calling her a monkey she laughed proudly and we both joined in. Simple, precious fun.