Walking On A Walk

Last weekend, Margaret’s Nana and Grandpa and Aunt Andy were visiting, so we went to the Botanical Garden to take in the Orchid Show and go for a walk.*

We got her bundled up for the walk in to the Garden.

Of course, we then had to unbundle her to walk around and look at the orchids, but she didn’t seem to mind too much.  After another bout of bundling, we ventured forth into the garden proper.

But one of the things that her discovery of walking has done for Margaret is suggest to her that she need not waste her time sitting in strollers when there is the possibility of going on her own two feet.  And I had promised to let her do some walking on her own, and I hate to lie to children.  So we sprung her.

She seemed to appreciate it.

Though she clearly realizes that walking is serious business and needs concentration.

Also, though she looks sweet and angelic and demure and like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth,**

she made an unholy fuss when we tried to put her back in her stroller because She Was Walking, Obviously, And Couldn’t We See That?

*Margaret seemed unimpressed by the orchids. 

**That is a stupid idiom, because if butter won’t melt in your mouth, you’re dead.