We packed up wooden eggs and paint before heading to the shore. The plan was to paint by the waves. Instead, Winnie finally succumbed to sleep just beyond the rising tide. I formed a basket of sand, and Harry was content to chew on the unpainted eggs.

While double digits of top soil and mulch bags sat dormant in the truck bed, we danced. They can wait.

Dr. Sears will tell you most children give up their nap between 3-5 years of age. This one is barely 2, and has decided to get a head start on her slumbering peers. Instead, she disrobes (diaper and all), sings, plays her piano, and generally destroys her room while her baby brother attempts to snooze next door. Yawns all around these days.

Spring break was spent among rows of purple chard and carrots. I had hoped Winnie would enjoy her week in the sun. What I didn’t anticipate is that she would not want to come home. She churned butter, and was presented lessons that ranged from mining to the care of livestock. As I drove her home she cried, “my garden, my garden…my friends.” 

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!”