almost three years old.

My niece to be, Hannah, took me to the park for an outing this afternoon.  We didn't get out the door until about 4:45 so the sun was already set and it was getting cold.  

Hannah will be three in February but she talks as if she is a twelve-year-old college student.  She is more articulate than most of my peers.  She walked me down the street, instructing me to "hold hands" and "jump on the grass" when cars drove by.  I am baffled by nice family neighborhoods without sidewalks, as is the condition of our neighborhood.  She stopped and sniffed at every little thing that was out of the ordinary for the side of the street.

"This is somebody's pay," she said, pointing to a renegade grocery receipt that was stuck in the mud.

"Do you see this?" she asked me, pointing her toe into a pile of mud.

"Yes," I replied.

"It's dirt. Don't step there, your shoes will track it in the house."

Ten four.

She told me to watch when she ran and to look at her when she jumped up high.  There are days when this sort of dilly-dallying makes me irritated, but today I enjoyed it.  It's really entirely stupid to let myself become annoyed since the purpose of our time together is for her enjoyment and if all it takes is marveling at a lost receipt, then I should really be counting my blessings.  

When we got to the park, we played house for a while and then hit the swings. She had me put her in the swing that has four leg holes and then gave me instructions.

"Aunt Ginny, I want to go super high."

So I pushed her high.  Usually I'd pretend to give a big push but take it easy so that the kid didn't fly out of the swing and hit the wood chips.  But I didn't do that, I really pushed her as hard as I could, and she just soared. For a hot second I thought, "Too hard?"  But she came down laughing and  sputtering like a little monkey.  Precious, so sweet it made me laugh out loud.  And then she just laughed harder, and I pushed her again.  

"The moon is out already," I said.

"Where?" she asked, craning her head on the down swing to find the elusive moon behind her right shoulder.

"Up there," I pointed and she turned and spotted it.  "Where do you suppose the sun went?"

After a brief pause, she said, "He's up there behind the sun."

 

She asked me to stop her so she could look and really see.  I grabbed her little feet and she came to a halt.  With both hands she wiped her blonde hair, all sticky with static, from her face and stared at the moon.

"There's a man on the moon," I said. "Sometimes you can see his face, when it's totally round." 

She looked at me skeptically.

"He makes sure you're okay when you sleep."

She smiled at the thought and then told me that the sun probably sits up with the moon too.  I laughed, and that made her laugh.