6 years, 7 months.
This past weekend as Nonna and Papa were in town from Alabama, you took advantage of spending all the time you could with Papa, as the two of you have always been on the same creative (and often physically active) wavelength. You spent hours with Papa at the kitchen table, working on arts and crafts.
One of those crafts included the two of you co-writing your own version of the book, Mr. Nobody, by Roger Hargreaves.
While taking a break from all your hard work, you both sat down in the gray sofa chair in the living room. I was on the floor with your sister, who wasn’t quite tired enough for a nap, nor energetic enough to laugh or even smile while we played.
She used her special Super Mario jump sound to communicate to me that she wanted to ride the zebra scooter. So I helped her up into the saddle and slowly began pushing her across the carpet.
I announced, “Hey everyone, Holly’s in a parade! Here she comes!”
But the look on her face indicated that she was way too sad to be in a parade. As she made her way across the living room, I kindly whispered, “Wave, Holly! You’re in a parade. Everyone’s here to see you!”
Yet still, just a sad little face was all she could muster up. I started feeling sad too at that point, as I thought of her as a poor little melancholy clown.
You and Papa obviously found humor in it: to see such a tired and confused looking, yet cute little girl as the sole member of a parade.
After the parade ended, you and Papa went from resting, to wrestling, to rolling.
It was sort of like the post-parade event.
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