Last month, Phil came home from day care with an art project of sorts. It was basically a couple of crayon marks on a piece of paper. When Mommy declared herself unmoved by this particular abstraction, Phil crumpled it up and put it in the wastebasket.
A few days ago he brought home another piece, this one with a Valentine’s Day theme. Mommy, seeming eager to atone for her previous harshness, pronounced it a masterpiece and hung it on the fridge. Phil pointed at it and beamed with apparent pride. A couple of days passed, and he was still pointing and beaming.
What all this means is anyone’s guess. I suppose that, in general, Phil can sense when we approve of something and when we don’t. But he can’t possibly understand that the refrigerator door is a spot of honor, can he?
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