Flying

This is the age where you still sortof believe you can fly. Hurtling through the air, with naught but a bit of plastic to hold you up.  Running hard and fast, leaping, whipping back, giggling.This is what swings and summertime are for. I was invited to ‘fly’ as well, but I declined as I figured a swing in the tummy would probably be a fairly uncomfortable thing for a prego like me. Besides, I couldn’t possibly have had more fun than I did just watching.

Nicole is suddenly a preschooler and it’s thrown me for quite a loop. It always does when I realize she’s gone and moved up a stage. One minute I had this giggly toddler, then a naughty one as she went through her terrible twos. Lately the naughty has come more in moments than streaks, although it seems like the better she is at talking, the worse she is at listening. I suddenly noticed that I have this long-limbed scabby-kneed chatterbox sitting next to me chatting about the weather and what we’re going to do with it. She’s even going to get her ears pierced, she loves stick-ons and asked her daddy very nicely if she can have real earrings that don’t fall off, like her cousin Morgan. She gets them for her third birthday, which is next month already! I’m already planning her party in my head, and okay, maybe I have been for a bit. She says she wants a ‘puppies and kitties party’ and I plan to have a lot of fun with that.