…Petra and Mama from Beazley Avenue.
We went down the hill, around the corner and up the path to the playground. So-called – it’s actually a shaggy paddock with a dilapidated swing set in the far corner. But that’s totally satisfactory for our purposes. We counted dandelions and stamped on daisies, then Petra swung so high she was almost as high as the big clouds.
Afterwards, we scoped out the soccer field. Petra decided that an orange tractor had driven over the grass and gouged it up. The big guys playing soccer at the time looked up the hill to see the tractor and got run over. She’s developed a morbid streak it would seem.
On the way back across the field and down the hill, Petra had me stop repeatedly while she scraped imaginary poo and glass and footprints off the path with a stick. We also spent a bit of time inspecting leaves, water, glass, birds, clouds, fences, flowers, and whatever else caught Petra’s attention.
We made it home after about 45 minutes of meandering with the stick (in three pieces), a pine cone, a stone (broken in half), and the seed pod of an unidentified tree.
Almost three-year-olds are fun.