So, I’m having trouble explaining the concept of strangers to Fiona. She really isn’t phased in any meaningful way by not knowing people. She introduces herself when I insist on it, but most of the time, she doesn’t much care.
I struggle with this. I want her to be safe. I want her to understand the rules. I want her to not hug strangers. You know, the little things.
While Chris was visiting us, she got to endure the joy of grocery shopping with my girl, here is her account of our trip.
As for me? I may need to get into the habit of celebrating being the stranger stranger.
Have you ever been grocery shopping with an adorably cute, irrepressibly rambunctious, rediculously curious, and monumentally social almost-3-year old? Well I have.
I am spending the next week in northern Califirnia visiting friends and their little pipsqueek, Fiona. Fiona has all the stored energy of a super nova, as well a the volatile capacity for both creation and destruction. She is a bright-eyed, curly-haired, crinkle-nosed, grinning little moppet…and i love her with every fibre of my being.
I get the unbelievable pleasure of waking up to her infectious little grin each morning the week, and the unbelievable honor or her little hugs, her soft affectionate touches, and her sparkling laughter.
All that being said, I have also had the joy of having water spilled on me, of having my Nook absconded from me to play games, of having had my attention demanded of me loudly and with fierce insistence, and…
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