Borderline

To Viv, my daughter. I remember from my early teenage babysitting years that I never enjoyed babysitting six-year-olds. They seemed to be too cool for everything, and thought they knew it all. In light of that fear, I want to record a sunny moment I had with you and your brothers today at a playground.

The three of you had survived daily mass with the visiting bishops and a crowded potluck lunch which followed and I owed you playground time. The weather was 65 and sunny with strongish winds that served only to cool us off after the stuffy lunch in the Church basement. You were wearing a pink short-sleeve shirt with glittery butterflies emblazoned on it, and black skirt with coordinating sequins. I had noticed that it was one of the first outfits you have selected yourself that actually matched, and I had a twinge of sadness at your maturing. Anyhow, we were all enjoying ourselves separately at first - you on the lone swing, Seth exploring the large play structure and the baby and I sitting in the grass in the one shady corner. Then Seth went into the little wooden house atop the play structure and started saying "not by the hair of my chinny chin chin". He is mildly obsessed with the story of the Three Pigs right now, and you indulged him. You ran right up those stairs and got in the house with him. As I said "then I'll huff and I'll puff..." approaching the stairs to reach you, you actually got excited and scared. You squealed with delight as I came to the door and you made it that much more fun for your 2-yr.-old brother and you were not too cool at all. I love you.