We had a wonderful walk through the woods on Easter morning. Wearing her easter tutu from Grandpa and her Catherine. Woolly hat from nana. And welly boots. Because, you know. That’s how she rolls. She munched mini eater eggs as we walked and played bears as we chased and ran. Conversation included whether there were wolves in the woods – no. Dragon shaped cloads – if you tilted your head, squinted a little and closed one eye. The easter bunnies activities for the rest of the year. Does the easter bunny hibernate? Have alternative employment? Do ballerinas wear tut’s all day everyday.
Her mind jumps from one idea to the next, like a butterfly flitting between flowers. She was braver than usual. Exploring into the trees until we had to suggest that perhaps in light of her attire the path might be a better option. Some days I feel like I say ‘listen to me’ a thousand times. Are her ears made of play dough? Nope. But my words are vying for attention among the multitudes of thoughts that are rushing around in her head, ideas, questions, statements of intent.
I’m not going to lie. 4 is hard. Harder than 3. Much harder than 2 (which was a breeze). But its more fun too. Her joy and imagination sprinkle magic and wonder onto the everyday. She is able to embrace true independence and self reliance in little everyday tasks. That’s life affirming stuff when your 4. Or as we say … She feels 10 foot tall and bullet proof.