I like three-year-olds.

We leave California for home-sweet-home in only two days, and what-do-you-know, the sun finally comes out. It was one of those days when the temperature is what it’s going to be in heaven: somewhere in the 70’s, light breeze, comfortable in either short or long sleeves. So, I take the troops on a nice walk to celebrate.

The older two debate how to say the third word in this sign: Not A Through Street. Baby Energizer relaxes in the stroller, not daring to fall asleep. But, it is the three-year-old that keeps me entertained.

“Mama, I want to hold your hand.” Anytime, honey.

“Mama, I bet you’d like to have those flowers if they were on sale.” Does she know her Mom, or what?!

“Mama, you have the bless-you’s.” I wipe my nose and thank the Lord for blessing me.

We pass some markings that used to be on the sidewalk and she notes, “It’s all gone because the rain rained it away.” I’m caught it in the sweetness of the moment but quickly brought back with, “Mama, you need to look both ways when you cross the street.”

The walk ends up covering a few miles over an hour and a half, and I barely want it to end. I’m busy reflecting on how much I enjoy the simplicity of it all, but I’m brought back with, “MOM…[stern face] we took the LONG-cut!”