get out

This started a couple of weeks ago.

I pick Alice up from day care and buckle her into the carseat. As we pull out of the parking lot, she asks, “I play?”

Of course!

There is one traffic light on the way home. We stop. It’s close to the park. She can’t see it, but she knows it’s there. “I play?”

Um. Let’s play at home, don’t you think? We’ll have a snack?

We drive past the park. She starts to kick. I try singing. She says, “No, Mama! No sing!”

We turn into our driveway. This is where things get tough. “No house!”

I unbuckle her. “No house!” She tries to refasten herself.

(No house. No. Lady, this is not my stop.)

So, some days we go to the park.

Other days we can’t.

She just really loves to play, is the thing.  I love that about her.

When she says, “I play,” it sounds like “I pie.”

It is so nice, on weekends, when she asks, “I pie?” to say, “Yep. Let’s go find some socks.”

She laughs: part eager, part relieved.

She knows how to put her shoes on. (If it wasn’t such a complicated sentiment, I think she would tell you she’s very proud of that. She just kept working at it until she figured it out.)

By the time you’ve found your own shoes, she’s waiting at the backdoor. She is pressing her palms against the window. “Outside?”

Outside. Let’s go. Let’s play. She laughs.


One thought on “get out

  1. Pingback: some days we go to the park | mi mamá me mima

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