Sometime over the past week, I lost a daughter and gained a 5 year-old roomate.
The roomate wakes up, settles herself on the couch, politely asks for toast and butter (as she is unable to reach the counter) and then sits quietly reading her Thomas books. Across the room I sip my tea and read my Robertson Davies novel. It is uncannily civilized.
Twenty minutes later, the roomate gets up, puts her dishes in the sink, dresses herself, brushes her teeth, and chooses which animal to accompany her to school.
Then we head out the door (we carpool to work).
As we walk towards the car, she reminds me to look both ways before crossing the street. (Like all roomates, she can be a bit ‘mothering’, sometimes)