8th of 21

owieknees

Owie knees.

The beloved and I each spent untold minutes trying to convince her to wear pants today, for the practical reason that, should she fall again, she’d have a little more protection where she’s currently really sore.  When she said she wouldn’t fall again (right? she’s four and a half; of course she said this), I tried to impress upon her the nature of a fall. That it’s accidental, by definition; you don’t actually plan to fall. 

Inside I thought: “With the exception of the upcoming California Supreme Court decision on Prop 8.”

I asked her if she could explain to me why she preferred the shoes — the caused-her-to-trip-and-fall-yesterday flip-flops — and she made an eloquent and convincing case.

“Shoes like these are more… gentle. More delicate. They make me think about dancing around in the grass late at night, and flying with fairy wings.”

“I totally get you, sweetie,” I said. “That makes complete sense.  Also, you’re right.”

As the girlie sat waiting on the couch, ready to go to school, her mama tried again one last  time to persuade her to opt for practical, injury-sensitive footwear at least — this nice sturdy pair of Keen sandals, even?  The hand-me-downs from your biggirl hero, Lucy?

“I’m a delicate-y girl, Mama,” she said with the calm, matter-of-fact tone one might use to list one’s age, or height.

She walked out the door wearing the skirt and the flip-flops that she wanted to all along.  God I love her.

 

[It’s A month o’ photos at LD. Here for just words? Please check back in June 1.]