hop, skip, jump.

Reese has the right idea when it comes to a pretty pleasant way to spend a sunny saturday afternoon: wake up from your nap, eat some lunch, and head to the park. it's that simple.

let the games begin.

swinging in the sun. does it get any better?

crackers in hand, Reese ascends the playtower.

she's an observer. again, crackers are present.

"and exactly who is above me? and just what do you think you're doing?" 

 

some of those other kids are just... not at Reese's level.

it's been great. let's head back. she's driving.

"I'll be your flowers."

Little kids' interpretations of words and phrases are pretty funny to me. And with baby-sitting, I get to hear a lot of them.
For instance, I told Sara something about Cinderella and her fairy godmother, and she switched the title around to "merry godfather"... which actually makes complete sense. No one ever mentions a merry godfather, but I just think of the fairy godmother's husband (who would be comparable to Santa Clause).
As we continued our walk to the playground, Sara asked me if I was "ready to be married"... well, sure... I guess...
She went on to add, "When you will be married, I will be your flowers."
I took that to mean she has intentions of filling the role of a flower-girl. It sounds like a great plan to me, and we pinky-promised that it would happen. 
Since I'm putting my wedding in Sara's capable 4-year-old hands, I was informed that she also would be finding a prince for me. How gracious. It happened pretty quickly—apparently my prince was at the top of the playground castle. But since I couldn't make it all the way up there, Sara assured me that she would take care of things and stick the prince "in a treasure box" and bring him down to me. Thank goodness.