Slides and Puddles
Hey Ess,
Yesterday, I got to go to the playground with you twice in a single day. You took my hand and we slid down slides side-by-side. You’re getting bigger: you sometimes go down the big slides without sitting on my lap. I showed you how to go down a slide upside down, head first, and you took the idea and ran with it, sliding in every goofy direction you could think of, laughing uproariously.
You still ask me to sit next to you in the back of the car, with Mama driving in the front. Usually, you just want me to hold your owl or your bug or your rabbit, and then have me voice them, asking questions you think of. But sometimes, you’ll hold my hand.
You love to splash in puddles, even when you’re wearing your white long sleeve shirt with its (also) white tutu sewn on.
You are learning new ways to ask for what you want: we were on a walk and the three of us realized it was too far to the playground, and that it was too far to even carry you on my shoulders there and back again. So when I knelt down to tell you this and to get us walking home, you threw yours little arms around me and told me “you can do it, Dada — I know you can” and then you gave me a kiss on the cheek. Right now, you never dole out pecks like that, so I knew you were just trying anything you could think of to get me to do it, despite what Mykala and I had said.
You almost got me to do it.
Nice move, kid.