So I’ve been woken up at around 5 a.m. the past couple mornings to a little voice beside my bed: “Momma, I want to go count the bunnies!”
Two mornings ago when the four-year-old’s belly was sore, she was up at the crack of dawn and I suggested that we take the dog for a little walk. “It’s your job to count the bunnies we see,” I told her.
Every morning now the four-year-old has been accompanying me on my dog walk and counting bunnies. I guess she believes in long-term employment.
She’s also been noticing little things along the way.
Like the two little pinecones that she picked up and carried home with her, “because they are best friends.”
(By now we are up to four bunnies. Seven is our record.)
Or a bunch of ants swarming on the sidewalk. “Maybe they’re having a party,” suggested the four-year-old. “A big birthday party!”
(Eight bunnies! We passed our record!)
“Momma, the moon is following us.”
After about twenty minutes or so of walking, the four-year-old starts to lag behind. She has a trace of dark circles under her eyes thanks to her early morning risings. Oh, if only she would sleep in and get her rest!
But then we’d miss the bunnies.
(Our new record is nine.)