Spring is great with a one-and-a-half year old. I am so lucky to live where I live and have the opportunity to show her such wonderful things.
There are flowers to be decimated, birdies to watch endlessly, rocks to turn over and bugs to poke at, grass to rip up by the handful and shove into the mouth of the waiting pony... every little thing is a great new discovery. (Or in the case of the pony, a great new manic obsession.)
Like, today, we all went out to the damp garden to plant some seeds. Wendy's version of this involves throwing handfuls of seeds onto the mud while desperately trying to climb out of my arms and into the puddle. We were out there for about ten minutes when the wind kicked up, the clouds began racing in our direction, and we could hear the rain spattering across the field and heading directly for us.
Drenched in seconds. Running for the house, baby clenched to hip, soaking wet. Wendy thought this was the greatest thing to happen to us, like, ever. I showed her our reflection in the foyer mirror as we darted inside. Delighted by the sight of her hair plastered to her face and the rainwater coursing down into her mouth, she looked up, eyes shining, and spluttered one of her favorite words,
Wendy Skye, Adventure Baby.