After hunting for Easter eggs, the girls, Dad, and I went to run around the back of the church. When I say run, I mean that literally. Someone (ahem, N.) really likes to run, and does so with abandon. I stuck by K. and let Dad do most of the chasing, but it’s a little alarming how far away from us N. would venture—and even more alarming that she would finally pause, turn around, spot us, and turn back to run farther.
Channeling her inner Laura Ingalls Wilder:
Running. I would run behind her (yes, I was able to keep up—it was close, but with the advantage I have in leg length I managed). When she heard that I was getting closer, she would run faster, and if I’d run past her she’d get really mad and hurry more.
And K. participated too, though you can see from her bouncy ponytail and gleeful expression, she did it with more flair and less speed.
Showing N. what she got in her basket.
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