The small person is having a grand day in our neighborhood. She pops in with her best friend now and then, requests food, and runs back out or stays to change costumes or build a house for her single doll, almost identical to her best friend’s doll.
So far, two swimsuits, one dress, one “exercise” outfit, and one grand gown have been on her body. Bless her, she hangs up the wet things and throws the dirty into the world’s second-smallest washing machine after checking for stains to pretreat.
Grapes, cheese sticks, pizza, garlic butter, and water have left this house in her tummy and her friend’s.
Someone has a wading pool and someone has a big pool, and now everyone has a bike, because the youngest member of the crew just inherited my girl’s too-small bike (which we purposefully planted in her auntie’s driveway) and can ride pretty confidently on two wheels all of a sudden. That five-dollar bike from Goodwill has been the right fit to make that happen for two of them, now. My person has graduated to the BMX level, just as suddenly.
I sit with my pizza and my books and hear her name called across the block, mixed with shrieks and shouts. All day, giggles and yells have rung through our usually silent part of town. Today, the small people run the streets and we big people get to watch the show.
They know how to make a holiday.