Fingers

Gemma came sliding into our room just before 7 am on a Saturday. I'm sorry to say that I didn't jump up and greet her with a song and dance routine, but I was sleepy still and my bed was snuggly and warm.

She crawled all over me (John too, but he is better at staying asleep than I am) demanding breakfast, music and a dance party.

I an effort to delay her and give myself another few precious moments tucked into my bed, I asked her how many fingers she had.

Gemma held up all her fingers, spread wide. She carefully counted. She has improved greatly recently but I still heard her double count a few of the fingers.

After a few moments, she crowed: "I have 8 fingers!"

I giggled to myself and told her that she did a great job. It was a great job, but she missed a few fingers. She should have 10 fingers.

I started counting her fingers for her, starting with her thumb on her right hand.


Then she gave me an extremely condescending look for a 3 year old. "That is not a finger mom! That is a thumb!"

It took me a few moments, but slowly her meaning became clear.

The correct answer is that she has 8 fingers and 2 thumbs.

I showed her, didn't I?

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