This morning Layla woke up and immediately wanted to go outside and play. I managed to deter her until 8:00...it was hard...there were waffles with extra syrup and movies from holidays past involved. She finished neither.
Our back patio has evolved in the last month from a place no one ever went to her quiet place. I get that. Jon and I both need some quiet time. He likes his outside. Cool.
So now what used to be overgrown ground cover, spider webs and dust is bark and kiddie pools, sand boxes, shade umbrellas, chalk covered patio concrete and a collection of little cars, riding toys and balls that never seem to find their way back inside.
I can sit at the desktop computer in the kitchen and watch her play. The patio is too small and well kept to get into much trouble but she still tries occassionally. Or I can sit outside in the cool morning air and watch the sand slowly coat my kid while the morning sun makes her cheeks rosy. My choice.
The more time Layla spends on the patio the more I want a real yard. The patio is too small for a 2 yr old to ride a tricycle well. It's too small for a swing or a slide or anything to climb on. So she runs back and forth like an animal in a fresh air filled cage. I want her to have a bigger cage. I want her to explore further. I want grass to set out on with the baby while she plays.
It's funny how her little day dream trips outside set me off day dreaming of something else. She's perfectly content with the tiny patio with the hot pink sand box but I know she'd love more... wouldn't we all.
Why is it even being content can make us discontent?