Days of miracles and wonder

On Saturday I had the privilege of looking after my grandaughter for most of the day.
She is 3 (and 2 months). It was an easy job. 

With her car-seat strapped in to my car ('I'll climb in by myself, Granma, 
so you don't hurt your back lifting me') we went off to have as much fun as possible. And we did.

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On the drive to the neighbouring town she talked non-stop - when she wasn't singing. I heard the whole of her favourite book (above), virtually verbatim. She told me all about her week, in great detail, with sound effects when necessary. She spoke disparagingly of her little brother's eating habits - he's 18 months old. 'He's so messy, and noisy. He's my brother.' 

She sang all of the songs she knows, then composed some about, variously, bubbles,dragons, fairies, Dora, and rainbows.

Helpfully, she pointed out cows and horses - and a camel -
in the paddocks we drove past.

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At the library she investigated the toyboxes and gazed silently at other little kids who came in with their adults. She went off to the Young Adult section and came back with a book for me, and one for Grandad. He doesn't read vampire novels, as a rule. She'd picked mine 'because it had a pink crown on the cover'. 

After we'd had her books issued, we went in search of a café.
She had a fluffy and a white chocolate and raspberry muffin, and
clearly enjoyed every scrap of both.

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What I treasure most is the energy she puts into everything, the delight she finds in small events, the unceasing questions about everything, her neverending supply of hugs and cuddles. She is a joy, and I am so happy I have had the chance to know her at this miraculous time in her life.