December 4, 2006

Go Ask Alice

Trees glorious trees! Their awakening in Spring is a sign of renewal, their plummage splendiferously shady in Summer and a riot of delicious color in Fall, the barren dark branches reaching toward the sky setting just the right mood in Winter. Who could ask for anything lovelier to decorate the horizon?

Right about now, I could. It's a passing fancy. See we haven't yet gotten around to tidying up Mother Nature's leafy detritus. My father always proclaimed, "What God put down, God will take away!" or something of the sort. I have no childhood memories of raking leaves. Who knew then how lucky I was to be spared such labor?

Now is not a good time to romp in our backyard. The thick brown coat of leaves obscuring the grass masks all signs of whatever dangers may be hiding beneath the crunchy layer.

And yes, there is danger. Grave danger. We have two dogs, dontcha know. Said dogs take care of all their worldly business in our backyard. It's nigh on impossible to scoop in the Fall. Even with my glasses.

Alice visited us the day after Thanksgiving. It was a warm sunny day here in the Nation's Capital. She thought of better things to do than to sit around chatting in the living room with the old folks. We romped in the yard. The backyard. Three year olds have their own special brand of romp. Alice loved the dogs and the dogs loved her. Pixie had never been up close and personal with a miniature human before; she was greatly intrigued. Dudley was, as always, a gentleman.

Alice made the rounds of our yard several times. Pixie spreads her toys far and wide. Alice insisted on tracking down each and every one. She would carefully pick them up, give a brief sniff and test the texture gently against her cheek while squeezing to discern density and squeakability.

Somewhere in our travels, she picked up dog shit on her shoe. Those cute little saddle shoes. I snatched it off her foot in the nick of time just before she stepped back into the house.

Wendy washed Alice's hands. I cleaned and polished her shoe. That cute little dog shit-covered saddle shoe.

We like it when mini-people come to visit. Even when they insist on wandering through the minefield.



WenWhit said...

She really is cuter than, well, shit.


Gina said...

Awwww, I love saddle shoes on little girls. She's a doll.

Cris said...

awwww, what a doll.

our grands have learned to look down while they run, and check their shoes once on the patio. Kaylie learned it at about 2yo, infact she became our best poop spotter when the grownups did yard cleaning.

Kat B. said...

'Go Ask Alice' is by far the scariest book I have ever read. I will never, ever, ever do drugs because of that book.
Just thought I'd let the semi-responsible adult know. :P

SassyFemme said...

We still haven't tackled our "mine field" under the leaves. I was kind of wondering how people up here handle that chore with all the leaves. I think we need a disposable rake, and plastic shoe covers!

WordsRock said...

Kat, actually I had the song "White Rabbit" by Jefferson Airplane ringing in my head. Hence the title. But whatever. Don't do drugs! Thanks for sharing your resolve with a "semi-responsible adult" ... what an apt description.

Sassy, wear gloves and your old yard sneakers. You do have old yard sneakers, yes? The ones that live on the porch and are exclusively reserved for outdoor labor? Once you start raking, it all blends in. And wait for a good freeze. That helps too! :)

the only daughter said...

Oh I miss having a little bitty girl (I had one for about a minute)-the shoes are da bomb!

With a open to the public front yard-a couple of seasons of Spring surprises, taught me the outdoor rubber shoes lesson-for good.

Anonymous said...

What's not to love? And she's grown so much since your last post about her! My, My.

(Some good friends of ours adopted a little girl from Guatamala. They are soooo precious!)

sporksforall said...

Dog shit and saddle shoes totally belong together. It cutes up one and de-cutes the other. You chooses which way you want to look at it.