A friend of mine once asked me to help her to write a story. She said that she wanted to write it from the perspective of her three-year-old daughter. She told me some amusing stories about her offspring, as well as some of the naughty things she got up to.
Her daughter was in the kitchen with us and had to be told constantly not to open the cupboards. Later, when her little girl was taking her afternoon nap, I asked my friend why she thought her daughter would not listen. She put it down to a childhood phase of disobedience. I could not tell her that she was thinking from an adult perspective; I had to show her.
I asked if I could use some ingredients from her cupboard; that I wanted to make a cake. She went to get them for me but I said that I would find them myself and that she should sit on the floor and see life from a child’s viewpoint. She duly obeyed and I began to bang around on the worktop, ignoring any requests at telling her what I was doing, instead telling her that she would find out in the end. It was six-and-a-half minutes before I heard the cupboard door open.
“Naughty!” I said
The look of realisation on her face was a picture. Now when she bakes, her little girl sits on the worktop and ‘helps out’.
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