Lyla at Four

I can't believe she is four, insert cliche about the inevitable passage of time, children getting older, I'm getting older too, I think I hear a Stevie Nicks song.  Anyway, I thought it would be interesting to write a little something about Lyla at four.  That's sort of the point of this sometimes blog, something to look back on and help us remember. 

I don't have a picture of this but Lyla at four is summed up for me by the image of her riding her bike ahead of us on the pavement around our neighbourhood.  Her helmet is on a bif skew-wiff, her leggings are covered in paint and mud, her calves are adorned with Strawberry Shortcake and Hello Kitty band-aids, and she is zooming off ahead of us, her long, skinny back wobbling from side to side like she's dancing.  We yell, "slow down, you're going to fast, BRAKE!!" and occasionally she listens and comes to a screeching halt, then she's off again, long legs all over the place.

This gives an idea, although it was taken after the cool weather hit, so the bruised legs aren't in view!

She can't get out of the car fast enough at school in the morning, "Morning Miss Tara, today is Annyuee's birthday and I'm going to make decorations for it at school, is Quinn here yet, I have my wellies on coz it's raining..." I don't know if there is ever a point at school when she stops talking.  She is so confident and easy-going. I'm having a hard time deciding if she actually still need a bit of babying sometimes or if I need to be able to still baby her sometimes.  She wolfs down lunch with glassy eyes then says, I think I'm ready for lie down with a podcast and I pick her up and get her warm milk and just hold her for a while. She can be such a little tomboy, racing around with the boys, getting covered in mud and sand, but then still wants to be a sparkly princess for Halloween.

As she gets older, home stops being her only influence, she has school teachers and other kids and yoga teachers and whole host of other people. I have a strong desire to be a "curling" parent, racing out in front of her, clearing away all the bumps.  Letting her navigate those bumps on her own, and giving her the right advice when she asks for it is the hardest thing I've ever done.