Knock, knock.

Lately, we have been teaching Margaret to knock on doors. I suppose this seems an odd thing to focus on with a two year old. Especially a two year old that is still ignorant of many other two year old that we don't lick our friends on the cheek. I can pinpoint my passion for teaching the art of the door knock to a couple of Saturday's ago. Mommy and Daddy thought Margaret was busy watching a movie, so we went in our room for just a minute to get a little, ahem, busy ourselves. I am still laughing about the face Riley made when she threw our door open. As with everything I deliberately set out to teach the girl (which is not much) she has learned with a seriousness that is far above her age. Heaven help the poor soul that opens a door without knocking first in Margaret's presence. The acceptable sequence is simple and unchanging.

Me: knocking on the door three times Margaret:COME IN! Door thrown open Margaret: I SEE YOU! I see you, too, baby girl. A few days ago Margaret and I were having a jump party on my bed, she stopped and looked at the photographs and art hanging just above it. They are colorful and lovely, moments captured by my Dad in Hong Kong, bits and pieces collected from consignment stores and yard sales. The girl studied them for a bit and then began to knock on each one. Three times. Pause. Then move onto the next one. She was waiting for one of the world's inside the frames to shout "COME IN!" It was a lovely lesson. I could just see it in her eyes, "Mom, don't you know all you have to do is knock?"

The jump party continued and I couldn't stop smiling. I am going to throw open every door for that girl that I can.