Winnie wanted to eat out at the patio furniture display. She was sorely disappointed that we were returning home for lunch instead. To top it off, in her Saturday outing excitement she fell, and skinned both knees and an elbow. She kept repeating “poor Winnie” and “oh goodness.” 

The high winds kept us from spending the afternoon on the sand. We detoured to our neighborhood coffee shop. 

Her feet may be tiny enough to squeeze into her daddy’s baby booties, but they are certainly hardy. She now runs/dances/walks the full mile home from shore. 

“I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.”

La Belle Dame sans Merci: A Ballad by John Keats

I filled the slow, pre-employment days after grad school with poetry memorization. On our walk home from our neighborhood playground, Winnie exclaimed “the woods so pretty, Mommy.” As she cupped the streaming sunlight, I was reminded of this lovely prose; squirreled away so long ago.

She cheers for anything in motion. When I put the car in drive, she yells, “whoa, go Mommy go!”

Last night, I was watching doppler radar for tornadoes. With such a clear, sunny start to the new day (and a skipped morning nap) we headed to the beach earlier than usual. I crammed the Early Rider and helmet under the double stroller, and Winnie practiced cruising the boardwalk on two wheels. 

The treasured post tub bath snuggles before tucking him in for the night.