She pushes the little cart full of chalk, pinky out.
(Because you must be proper even in the driveway, I suppose.)
She turns the cart, turns herself, and plops down on top of the chalk.
Expecting to roll down the hill, she doesn’t move an inch.
Her frustration shows as she struggles to stand.
She teeters back and forth, trying to propel herself forward.
Face first on the concrete.
(Maybe she should have tried a little less.)
She isn’t really hurt, but says “ow…ow…ow” out of habit.
It’s her new favorite phrase.
That and “no”, which with her drawl sounds like Noah.
“Brush it off,” I tell her as she stands,
and she rubs her round belly.
I lean in to give her a kiss and we bump noggins.
Both laughing, we try again.
She pushes the cart forward, but I am holding it steady.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you.”
She just wants to go.
I just want her.
I release my hold on the handle and as she toddles away she turns back with a smile.
“I love you, too.”
Linked with Heather’s Just Write.