God love Mouse, she’s always been a bit of a wuss. Our own little Klingon to take home and keep. Slightly overly cautious of things that we know she’d enjoy, if she’d just feel the fear and do it anyway. Too harsh for a three year old? Possibly. Anyway, we seem to have turned a corner, although it’s crept up on us slowly over the last few months. She’ll let go of our hands just that bit quicker at parties. She’ll run off at the park to chase birds and teeter heart-stoppingly close to the edge when we walk along the riverbank behind our house. I’m trying not to be a fishwife and call her to heel, even though my blood pressure can’t handle it at times – she needs to go forth and prosper, with me hovering at a safe distance.
We took her to a funfair this weekend and she wanted to go on all the scary-ass rides. Luckily, she’s a hobbit, so it was only the moderately safe, ground level attractions that we could dangle in front of her. Before Christmas, she rode the carousel at a German Market and nearly literally shit her pants with terror, to the point where the bloke almost stopped the ride (Almost. But not actually. Sadistic sod!). This time though, she OWNED that plastic Mini Cooper. Next up, the swings that actually swing really quite bloody fast and wide. I wouldn’t go on them (apple, tree, much?). My poor lowly iPhone 5S couldn’t keep pace with her, but I quite like this shot. Fortune favours the brave, and she is brave and mighty.