I love her for her imagination, her inquisitiveness, her stubbornness, her silliness.
I love her relentless requests to do "craft", to "investigate", to catch butterflies in the garden.
I love that she can suddenly ride a bike like an old pro, can suddenly read whole books on her own, will make up a song and stop whatever she's doing to write down the lyrics.
I love that she suggests dinner on the lawn, then declares, "Well, isn't this pleasant," as we share our rice with the mozzies.
I love her intensely choreographed dance routines, and that they're often to the songs from Broadway musicals. (And I love how far back in her head her eyes roll when I try out one of my routines on her...)
I love her gappy grin, her impossibly thick hair, her limbs that seem to stretch out longer and thinner every time she falls asleep.
And I love that, given free rein in my fabric stash, she doesn't hesitate before selecting a lairy vintage sheet for her new summer dress (and that when she tries it on the first time, she says, "It's just like a ball gown!")
Bless.
Dress F from Girls Style Book by Yoshiko Tsukiori.
Bless.
Dress F from Girls Style Book by Yoshiko Tsukiori.