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OONADAD

I write WALL on the wall. 

 

I write BATHROOM on the bathroom door and CAT on the wall above the litter bin. I write MIRROR on the mirror so MIRROR appears across our faces. 

 

My three-year-old daughter cackles maniacally. Her joy of letters and language has started a compulsion in the house.

I write MOM and DAD on the bedroom door and she draws a picture underneath—That’s you on your wedding day.

 

She draws a picture of herself on her bedroom door and writes her own name. On all the rest of the doors in the house I write DOOR. (Except the hallway closet where she insists on writing a double backwards HI. So: IH IH. 

 

I write EARTH and STAR on the wall.

 

On the refrigerator I write FOOD. BOOK on bookcase. BED on bed. SINK on sink. TUB on tub. On the wall near the toilet my daughter writes HI. 

 

She draws a big rainbow on the hallway wall and I write RAINBOW. She traces the letters with her fingers. She draws a sun on the wall and I write SUN. On the stairs I write STEP. 

 

If you draw a tree on the window, I’ll write TREE, I tell her. And we do. If you draw a hippo, I’ll write HIPPO, and we do.

 

She draws a mean caterpillar mommy and a mean caterpillar baby on the wall and I write MEAN CATERPILLAR MOMMY and MEAN CATERPILLAR BABY.

 

She draws a picture of our family and says—that’s you in the lipstick. 

 

I have read some poetry in my life, but the most beautiful sentence I have ever seen in the English language is written by my three-year-old daughter, Oona—in bright pink chalk on the sidewalk in front of my house— 

 

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OONADAD

 

OONA and DAD are one word, she explains, because OONA and DAD love you-ch’other. And the two little lines above it? as to offer accent or emphasis? It means they love-you-cho’ther.