When Shawn was away earlier this week, I decided to teach Reilly a proper handshake. For some reason, I have an aversion to a poor handshake, or should I say, I have a true appreciation for a properly executed handshake. Since it is never too early to plant your neuroses in your own child, I taught my baby how to shake my hand.
As Reilly is prone to do, she not only understood what I was trying to teach her, but also shook my big hand with her little one like she’d been doing it her entire life.
I enjoyed our little lesson, then, as I am prone to do, forgot all about it.
Flash forward to yesterday. The phone rings at work.
“Hi, Bri.”
“Hi, Shawn.”
“So, I asked Reilly to give me a high five today, then she told me to shake her hand. Did you teach her that? Because it was really cute.”
“How was her handshake?”
“Good.”
“That’s my girl.”
No comments:
Post a Comment