It took Mr. Pants no time at all to remember that DiDi and PaPa's house is a delicious place. If you eat a good dinner, I offered the second day, you can have strawberries for dessert. He ate such a good dinner that strawberries morphed into icecream without explicit mention of the switch and as he polished off his cone, he said, "Now I want my other dessert!" Wha? says his confused mother. "Strawberries!" says he.
Downing his last berry, he sang out, "Dessert is over!" and leaped up in his chair to blow out the centerpiece candle.
The next day, Mr. Pants was up early and listening with rapt attention to anything his beloved PaPa wanted to tell him.
On this particular day, for reasons I cannot explain, PaPa wanted to teach him the basics of story structure. Every story has three things: a beginning, a middle, and an end. Mr. Pants nodded solemnly, but a few hours later when PaPa asked, "What three things does every story have?" Mr. Pants was too shy to answer. "A beginning," I whispered, to get him started. "A middle!" he crowed, "And an end!"
"Yes!" says Papa, "Like in the story about your day yesterday, the end was when you came home in the car and went to bed."
"No," corrected Mr. Pants, "the end was strawberries!"
Another early morning chat with PaPa and Mr. Pants came running out to me on the deck to ask, "Mommy, where do I get all my energy?"
I fought back a chuckle and guessed that it was some from his food and some from inside him, from you.
He pranced back inside and I heard him carefully explain, "PaPa, now I know: I get all my energy from food and from... me."