All I Ask Is That My Labors Be Acknowledged

Fiona sits in front of her xylophone.

"Daddy, will you teach me to play Winnie-the-Pooh on the xylophone?" she asks. Yesterday I "taught" her how to play Doe, a Deer by playing three notes at a time and then having her repeat them.

I've been trying to make my way through a New Yorker article for the better part of the weekend but distractions keep popping up. "Let me get to the end of this page and we'll play something, okay?"

Fiona sighs heavily.

"I'm trying to read right now, Fiona."

Fiona crawls on my lap and cuddles up.

"It's a lot of working raising me, right Daddy?"

I burst out laughing (who wouldn't?) But I do have to ask a question. Nonna, Pop: when Fiona was staying with you for 10 days while we were in Berlin, what did she do that prompted you to tell her that?