“Pie. Pie! PIE!”
What on earth is the small human chirping about?
“Do you mean rice?”
“Pie… Small Human, I have no clue what you want. Can you show me?”
The small human grabs my hand and starts walking up the stairs, “Pie. Pie. Pie.”
She stands in front of the freezer.
I open the freezer and look around… has she ever had a pie? From a freezer? It’s not impossible. I mean, frozen-let-them-thaw pies are the only kind I know how to make…
She points. The box of popsicles.
Small Human loves her some ‘pie.’ Loooovvvvessss it. She will run in the kitchen chirping (“Pie, pie, pie”) and stand next to the freezer until Mark
obeys gets her a popsicle. Once I asked Otis what did Wren love and he quickly answered, “Pie.” And she has taught the whole family the meaning of pie because, as my father-in-law says, “This is Wren’s world and we’re just living in it.”