Luke (3 yrs old) accompanied me to a doctor’s appointment last week. I’ve been working on teaching him elevator etiquette, but to someone who doesn’t understand boundaries it isn’t an easy thing to learn. I let him push the up button and we waited on the elevator to arrive on our floor. “Is there anybody on it?” he asked.
“I don’t know. We’ll have to see. Do you remember what to do when the door opens?”
“Oh, yes. I wemember.” The door opened and Luke stood calmly as everyone got off. “See, Mom I waited for eberyone to get off first,” he said.
“Great job, buddy.” We walked into the elevator and were followed by a lady pushing a stroller. “What fwoor you going to?” Luke asked the lady. “Two, please,” she replied. I could tell he was quite proud of himself, and as I suspected he continued to talk. “My name is Wucas and I’m free years old. This is my fwiend, Mom. She’s sixty-one.”
“Wow, Mom,” she replied. “You look great for sixty-one.”
I flipped my hair with a little swagger. “Well, I hate to brag, but that isn’t the first time I’ve been told that.”
Luke decided to continue talking on what was beginning to feel like the longest elevator ride of my life. “Sometimes I call her Gwandma.”

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