Screwed

Yesterday, Zibbi came into the bathroom when I was getting ready for the day.  She showed me a small black tool in her hand.  She explained to me that she had discovered that the tool was a screwdriver and, showing me the other hand, she had removed a screw on her own.  I was a little startled, firstly that she knew what this little black tool was.  Secondly, I expressed to Zibbi my concern that screws are used to hold things together, so if they are removed, things can and will fall apart.  She reassured me that she had not removed the screw from a wall.  I immediately thought how this could be a new game for the whole family--who can find the missing screw?  I keep imagining that one of these days, one of us will sit down on chair that suddenly bursts apart because of a missing screw, or a table that falls to the floor unexpectedly. 

Later, Zibbi started to sing.  And because my lifelong dream is for life to emulate a great musical, I of course joined in.  Zibbi very politely asked me to please stop.  Then she asked if I noticed how nicely she'd asked me not to sing.  For example, she explained, she didn't say my singing stop horrible and I should stop immediately.  Hhmm.  I think the asking nicely might have been erased by the explaining what she could have said.