My daughter, A., is a list maker. Just like her father’s mother. Just like me. She begged for a magnetic pad of paper from the dollar store last week. It’s lined paper, with the heading of “The List” on each page. She won the argument and has used the pages diligently including this to-do list for going to the movies on Friday:
1. Get tickets.
2. Get food & drinks. [yes, she drew an ampersand]
3. Give ticket to person.
4. Find best seat in the house.
5. Talk quietly during the movie showing.
She carried it with her, crossing off each item as it happened (and as it so happened, #3 came before #2). Then refused to throw the list away. Last night she indexed her blank book, marking pages to be used for “flower pictures,” “word dictionary,” “poems,” “life stories/fairy tales,” and “anything you want,” then writing up the index at the back to point out where each is in relation to the others. Word Dictionary is before Poems. Poems are before Pictures. Anything You Want is in the middle and Life stories/Fairy tales are at the end.
It reminded me of the summer that I was 10; I marked and organized our small home library using the Dewey Decimal system. I saw the same look of pride I had felt then in A.’s eyes yesterday. The apple surely hasn’t fallen far from the tree.
