There’s one ceiling fan in the house and it’s in the master bedroom.
Emil’s always found fans both fascinating and frightening.
I walked into the bedroom one afternoon this week and found him standing by the bed. “I’m watching the fan go,” he told me. “I’m not scared of it. Nope, I’m not scared of it at all.”
Later I was lounging on the bed, reading, and he came in to give me a goodnight kiss and wish me a good sleep. He’s always a bit reluctant to head for his own room; he’d like to stay and chat.
“Mom. Fans can’t talk, can they. What if fans could talk?”
Hm! That’s true. Would you like them to?
“No, they can’t. I bet if they could, they’d have some stories to tell.”