That Baby loves to walk. LOVESLOVESLOVES it. She is a very social sort, so she likes to be out in the world, looking at everything, talking to everyone about everything, and just generally being on the move. She doesn’t mind the stroller, but prefers time to walk her own self. (Until she gets tired, at which point, she’s fine with the stroller or being carried.)

So we try to get out and walk as frequently as possible.

One walk we do almost every day is around our block. We walk down one side of the block and up the other. But recently, we have wandered down the path that is the entrance to our part of the conservation area behind our house.

From the bottom of the path you can see a water overflow area, which catches any overflow of our drainage system from spring melts or heavy rains. It’s swampy but home to local wildlife — a groundhog or two, a couple of ducks, a goose on a nest on top of what looks like a beaver dam (only much smaller) and his or her partner goose paddling around the pond, and the odd housecat stalking the birds or mice or what have you. So recently, we have taken to wandering down and having a look at the critters.

Also, fairly recently, we have started to wander into the conservation along the main path. It has been swampy and muddy as the snow melts and the ground dries out, so we started out going only a few steps, and go a few steps farther each day.

On our first forays into the conservation, Stinkerbelle seemed distinctly off. In the winter it was bright and fine and she was smaller, so she wandered out and around the clearing in the snow with no worries. But now that she is older, and the trees make the woods seem darker, she has been apprehensive. She has not wanted to go very far, and quickly fusses to leave.

I was sad, a little. I was concerned that my girl would be afraid of the woods and we would not be able to enjoy them together.

Today, however, something changed.

We went down the walkway to the pond to look at the ducks. And I wandered along the gravel path, as I do, and encouraged her to follow, so we could see how far we would go today before the ground was too wet.

But That Baby was unmoved. She stopped, and pointed instead in another direction.

She pointed to a small trail that wandered off on its own through the woods. It was a small trail, made by individuals and their dogs and probably the deer, not the nice flat gravel trail I was on.

So I thought, Okay, let’s just see.

I followed her, and off we went into the woods.

My daughter has just turned two. She’s still figuring out the mechanics of walking and running and how legs and feet and knees work together in harmony. So I did not think she would enjoy walking on a forest trail, particularly one that was uneven, and had myraid things to trip over and bump into, and quickly plunged into the dark wood.

I was mistaken.

She took off like she has walked in the woods all her life. She traipsed along the trail, surefooted like a little goat, avoiding many of the rocks and branches set to trip her up. I reached out occasionally to help her over some particularly troublesome obstacles, but for the most part, she was fine on her own. She marched into the dark of the forest, and being small, occasionally asked me to leave the trail as she could walk unhindered through groves of pines, underneath all the branches. (I couldn’t walk so easily, so I led her back to the trail after a few minutes exploration.)

She was in her element. She saw trees, and birds, and squirrels, and we explored for a good 15 minutes. For little legs, that’s quite a long time, particularly just before lunch. And then she turned to me and asked to be picked up.

I lifted her up on my shoulders. I thought about going on, but it was lunchtime, which is followed by naptime, and I didn’t want to mess up her schedule. But I think it would have been lots of fun to explore a little while.

So I turned around and headed back along the trail through the woods to our subdivision. Stinkerbelle sang up on my shoulders, and pointed out things she saw, and we ducked together to avoid branches.

And as we left the conservation and headed up the sidewalk for home, she reached down and hugged my head tight, and tilted her head to rest her cheek on the top of my head.

I kissed her hands. She kissed me back.

It seems like the walk in the woods was a big hit. I hope we can do it again some day.

Yesterday was a good day.

We had a doctor’s appointment in the morning for Stinkerbelle’s 2-year well baby checkup. Since we played repeat-and-catch-up with her shots, we were not sure if there would be needles and of what type they would be, so we prepared for the worst. BDH came along to the appointment to do the “daddy hold” on an unhappy baby for needles, should they be required, and I cancelled our weekly play date thinking that That Baby would be in no mood to play after getting some shots.

We were pleased to learn when we got to our appointment, however, that there would be no shots at all. We were all caught up. Our girl is 26 pounds and 33-or-so (I think) inches of busy, healthy toddler. So since we had a stroller in the trunk, I left BDH to take the car home, and Stinkerbelle and I decided to celebrate with a trip to a park near our doctor’s office.

The park is on one of our city trails that meanders off through bush and neighbourhood alike in our fair town, and has a big soccer field and splash park as well as a playground. So it tends to be busy. But yesterday morning, although the weather was warm and glorious, the playground portion of the park was empty save one other mom and her kids. So we hustled on over so Stinkerbelle could get in some swing time.

She was ecstatic.

While we were on the swings, the young boy playing on the playground wandered over to go on the swings. He called his mother over, saying he wanted to be pushed “like that baby”. So his mom came over and pushed him on the swings, while I pushed Stinkerbelle.

Now, I have a way with little boys. Boys around the age of 4 or 5 tend to love me. It’s probably because I encourage them to be boys and do boy things and cheer them on with great enthusiasm (much to their moms’ chagrin, oftentimes). And this little boy was no exception, as he very soon struck up a conversation with me. He proceeded to show me all his feats of daring-do around the topics of playground climbing, small bicycle riding, and running up very large hills.

Meanwhile, Stinkerbelle was ENCHANTED. She thought that everything that our little friend, Ben, was doing was COMPLETELY EXCITING. She ran after him, laughing and clapping, just excited to have another child to play with.

Herein lies the reason for our good day: other kids. That Baby does not have a lot of kids that she can play with (or, sometimes, a lot of kids that I feel comfortable with her playing with — let’s just put it down to different parenting philosophies). So when the opportunity to play with another child presents itself, she is OVERJOYED. She is giddy with excitement. And she is a very expressive child — I believe that if you feel joy, express it, and I encourage her to talk and sing and dance and show her happiness whenever the mood strikes her.

And believe me, she does.

She danced around Ben’s mom and tried to touch her hand and sat in front of her while she fed her infant twins. She followed Ben around chattering at him and mimicking what he did. She was in heaven.

And then the other families began to arrive. That Baby practically EXPLODED from the excitement.

The first little girl came with her mom and her aunt. As the little girl approached, Stinkerbelle RAN to her and stood in front of her and chattered and clapped and danced: “Do you KNOW how EXCITING this park is? There are OTHER KIDS HERE! It is THE BEST!!”

The little girl was a little intimidated. Who wouldn’t be with someone all up in your face chattering like a chipmunk with a sugar rush? But she got past The Welcoming Committee and went to play on the slide. At which point, Stinkerbelle went happy-dancing around her mother and aunt.

They were a little freaked out. “WOW”, they said with not just a little edge of nervousness, “she’s REALLY HAPPY!”

“Yeah,” I said, “she’s ALWAYS happy.” And I quickly redirected Stinkerbelle’s joyful jigging to come and play with me on a slide instead.

Next came two moms with a group of about 4 boys. One of the moms and her son have met Stinkerbelle before, so they went about their business. But Ben and That Baby ran over to the other mom with her 3 boys, like tiny happy sharks when there is blood in the water.

Both Ben’s mom and I went on redirect. The boys’ mom was not pleased with her welcome, apparently. She had a face like thunder. The boys were a little surprised, but the mom DID NOT LIKE IT. I think she was even more annoyed that her two youngest began to follow Stinkerbelle around the playground, fascinated by the Happy Girl in the Hat.

But hey, a small bouncing chattering child can be annoying right? (No, not really. Get over yourself, lady — kids get excited. Deal.) So I went and got That Baby and led her away from the kids and over to the swings, where she could squeal and clap and holler and not bother anyone.

Shortly after, 5 or 6 more moms and their kids showed up. It was getting crowded, and busy, and Ben’s mom gathered him and his sisters up and they left. I began to think it might be best to find some fun elsewhere for Stinkerbelle. Despite breaking her heart, it was time for me to take That Baby and start heading for home.

She often cries when we leave the playground, so I instead “bribe” her by asking her if she wants to go for a walk. If there is one thing she loves as much as the swings, it’s walking.

So off we went, along the trail. Stinkerbelle ran off the trail, out into the middle of the empty soccer field beside it. She had never in her life been alone in such a great big expanse before. She ran and ran and ran.

And then she stopped. She looked around. She ran a couple more steps. She stopped and looked around. And then she sighed.

She trotted over to me, handed me her sunglasses, and grabbed my leg. “Bye bye! All done!”

Her happy energy tank had run down to empty. She was pooped out, and ready to be loaded into the stroller for the remainder of our walk.

And so off we went, looking at birds and ducks and trees and the woods, until we came to the road and headed up the sidewalk for home.

It was more fun than we could have hoped for when the day began. And as we made our way home, I promised Stinkerbelle that we would try to find her some more kids to play with or, at least, go to the park more often.