Sophie loves to swing.
She will run to the yellow swing that Grandma bought,
that hangs from our huge front tree.. 10 times a day.
Just to swing.
It's just, so, fun.
She used to need pushing..
but has now mastered the art of pumping..
so is free to swing whenever she darn well feels the urge--
but still prefers, as young princesses will, to be pushed.
Delights, in being pushed.
DEE-lights I tell ya.
Jasen has started to take her on little later night sneaks over to the school playground for a good night swing on the big school swings.
It's dark.. and they go even higher.
She laughs like it's the most fun she could ever know..
and never, ever, tires of it.
She comes in giddy.
Her cheeks cold and flushed from the night air.
I love how simple the pleasure of it is to her.
I also love.. that while takin' a little poop yesterday,
(Sophie still. I know-- you were thinking it was ME.)
she stuck up her middle finger and said,
"Is this a swore? My friend said this was a swore."
I laughed out loud.. and then replied..
"Yeah. Kind of. That's a way people swear using their hands."
"Oh." She answered. "Why do people do swears?"
"Well.." I continued..
"I guess some people think it's cool. Don't you think that's kind of dumb?"
"Mom." she says, in this kind of tender, but reprehending sort of tone..
"Everybody makes mistakes."
Plodding along through February...of last year.
1 month ago