Tonight, while were reading our bedtime stories, I had a hard time keeping my place in “Ferdinand” because Norah was flipping through the pages we’d already read. I was managing, because we’ve read the story enough lately that I know it by heart, but it was a struggle.

“Norah, what are you looking for?”

“Bee.”

She’s obsessed with that bee. The bee perched on the clover, the one that Ferdinand sits on, the one that stings him and puts the whole story into motion. That bee is clearly the reason why we’re reading the book a hundred times a day. And she wanted to look at him. I guess I hadn’t spent enough time on that page the first time through.