This is how it goes down.
We arrive, find a spot amongst the herd of palm trees, sit, remove foot attire, roll pant legs and shirt sleeves and I push the young fledgling towards the spewing geyser. From there, she pushes back and hides her bashful face in my lap until some little kids run through the water squealing. With her attention peaked, she takes three steps forward. Then two steps back. Turns around to make sure I'm still seated. Turns her attention back to the fountain and tries to place an insecure hand on my leg. Since she's still a step away from me, she misses and starts to lose her footing. Regains her balance. Comes back to the comfort of mama bird and watches the other kids play. Five minutes pass. She attempts to pull me out of my chair, but I inform her this is a solo flight. Apprehensive, she runs to the closest fountain and cautiously tries grabbing the gushing water. She runs back to me. Again, she tries with all her might to get me vertical but fails. Ten minutes pass. Without a chaperon, she inches her way toward the fountain again. This time she gingerly tries placing a toe in the water. Gingerly then turns into wild. Her pants now look as though I've taken them straight from the rinse cycle and placed them on her lower limbs. She's been baptized. She looks back warily. I smile and let her know all is good in the world.
The next day we return to the watering hole. Repeat all steps again.
Train Park:
Back to the train park we went last week. It's becoming a bittersweet place to frequent. Bitter in the sense that if locomotive engineer Kennedy isn't either on the train or five steps away from boarding it, she's a mess. Waiting in line for the train isn't even good enough for her. It merely confuses and irritates the hell out of her, and I'm usually the one she spills the pot of mixed emotions on. But the sweet outweighs the bitter and seeing her elated to hand our tickets to the conductor time and time again is what keeps me fueled to keep returning.
Miya and Marley:
We truly do have some great dogs. They come with a lot of patience and a lot of wisdom. The wisdom being, let the kid do whatever her little sassy pants pleases. A couple times I've caught Kennedy trying to put something in their ear. A couple times she's tried to sit on Miya. And just today Brandon caught her stamping (as in ink stamping) Marley. And many a times I've caught her sharing her goldfish, popcorn, m&ms, suckers and all things edible with them. Maybe that's why they tolerate her so well. I assume it's a don't-bite-the-hand-that-feeds-you kind of deal.
Birthdays and nails:
The weekends are always fun when they require breaking out the red nail polish, face painting and celebrating a birthday inside a bouncy house.
Give a man a couple Coronas, a bouncy house and a little encouragement, and he will give you entertainment in return.
On a Saturday morning, I had painted my nails a valentine red. They went unnoticed for the remainder of the day. On Sunday morning, I pulled a jammied little girl into our bed so she could climb on top of her daddy who still resided under a heap of blankets. As I pointed to where he lay, the jammied little girl took notice of my index finger and her mission to play "alarm clock" was aborted and a new mission took up residency inside that jammied little girl's head. Her new mission: get her mother to apply that valentine red to her fingernails.
Mission accomplished.
On a very cute note, I had stressed over and over again to Kennedy the importance of not touching anything until the polish was dry. Bless her heart, a half hour after I painted those tiny nails she was still using her elbows to pick up her sippy cup.
