After Lizzy has soccer, we usually walk over to visit the ducks. The ducks, I'm sure, dread this encounter, because of course we don't just admire them from a distance and offer a friendly "hello." We (and by we I mean Lizzy and Peter) chase them, and torment them, and shout, and squeal, and take great delight in waking them and watching them scurry into the water just out of reach of our eager little hands. Lizzy loves to explore and get "lost" in the "wild" areas around the duck pond, the places semi-secluded by drooping tree branches. I love that feeling too, where you feel "hidden" behind a veil of leaves and bushes, and it's just you and nature, alone in your own conversation. Peter tries and tries to find a duck that won't run away from him, and when that fails, he delights in putting his fingertips in the water, and running sticks through the pond. This last time, we spotted a kindred spirit. Another little girl with a big long stick was "fishing" in the pond. She came running right up to Lizzy, and there began the sweet conversation between two little girls that I love so much to hear. I love their mutual curiosity and interest. I love hearing, "What's your name?" and "How old are you?" I love that right away, they feel the connection of shared interest, something in common, the joy of inviting a friend into your imagination. We had the best time running around with this little girl, playing in trees, and then even hitting up story time together. When we parted, I wished we could see her again. I hope our paths will cross by the pond another day.
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