Miss6 was obviously looking for something when she poked her head into the kitchen.
No, not something. Someone.
Her eyes lit up when she spotted Nath, the patriarch of our host family here in Hobart, leaning against his kitchen bench and she walked up to him, motioning for him to bend down to her level.
“Can I ask you a question?” she whispered, hands clasped around his ear.
He stood up straight and thought about this.
“I think you just did,” he told her.
There was a pause as this was processed, then her little hands beckoned and surrounded his ear again.
“Can I ask you another question?” she whispered. Her hands had almost come away again when she physically seized his lobe before it could escape and she added, “I mean after this question which I just asked you.”
Who says my kids can’t be taught?
“You know what?” said Nath, rubbing his ear, “I might know what you want to ask me.”
Because we’ve been here messing up his kitchen, clearing out his freezer and drinking his beer for coming up to two weeks now so it’s only to be expected he’d taken stock of how each of us tick. And more to the point, this was clearly not the first time Miss6 had wanted to whisper something conspiratorially into his ear.
Though the pain, I think, was an addition.
For all that this may have played out before, Miss6 looked doubtful.
“Really?” she asked.
“I’m betting,” said Nath, “you’re hungry. Are you maybe going to ask me for something to eat?”
Had Tracey or I been in the room we’d have yelled out Bingo!
“No,” said Miss6, shaking her head, and Nath looked as surprised as we would have.
“What do you want to ask me then?”
Miss6 indicated for him to lower his head again so she could whisper into his ear: the slightly red one.
And then she asked in a low voice completely lacking in any sort of irony, “Can I have an ice block?”