This, on the left, is taking up Ronan’s every spare second.
Before they knew her name by heart they called her “the pink girl.” They still do sometimes because it is so fitting. The sound of her plastic training wheels raking loudly down the street - - hhhhhhhhhhhckkkkkkkk - - is her siren song. It calls Ronan to the front of the house each afternoon, with Laird tagging along behind.
She and Ronan have developed quite a connection together. They color, they bike, they sit in the cool grass and chat. Ronan pushes her on the rope swing til his eyes roll silently at me. It is a labor of friendship I suppose. Laird joins in whenever possible and mumbles her name in his sleep.
She brought gumballs for them last week and flower magnets this week. The other neighborhood kids simply can’t compete with that.