‘Why?’ I ask. ‘What happened to your hand?’
‘I broked it’ she replies, cradling the said hand. ‘I need a wipe’ she says.
I give her a wipe, and she gingerly tries to wrap it round the hand that’s hurting.
‘How did you break it?’
‘I fell down the stairs and broked my hand’ she replies solemnly.
The penny has dropped. I have just finished reading ‘Maisy goes to hospital’ to her. Maisy fell off her trampoline and broke her leg. We are now looking at the pictures in ‘Maisy goes to the museum’ She asks me to turn the pages for her as she can’t do it properly with just one hand.
She figures she’s gotten her story a bit wrong, so she hops off the bed and goes to look for the hospital book which has now been replaced in the case.
She flicks through, and then announces ‘My leg is broken’. She can’t balance properly on just one leg, so she opts to continue cradling her hand.
She spies another book, ‘Just like me!’, and hands it to me. She acts out all the animal actions as I read it out to her, even prowling on the carpet like the tiger. On all fours. Hurting hand forgotten.
She’s now back on the bed with me. Cradling her hand.
She’s my toddler. 2 going on 10. And I love her.