Of Bea.

Considering the terrorising and tears that frequent our afternoons it amazes me how excited Bea gets in the morning when I tell her it’s time to go get her big brother from preschool. Sometimes she’ll find her shoes and hand them to me happily. More often she squeals with delight and immediately takes off racing to the front door. She hammers on it with her hands and can’t wait for it to open so she can toddle down the front steps and towards the car. Yesterday she was so carried away in her excitement that she forgot to stop and went running straight into the door. She bounced right off it and thumped down onto her bottom. Thud. Splat.

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