I find it hard to be grouchy when the weather is like this. Today in San Antonio it's sunny, clear, breezy, and in the 70's--my definition of perfect weather. You can be outside with jeans and a t-shirt and be neither warm nor chilly. So we had to head outside and enjoy it.
Unfortunately, it was short-lived pleasure. After maybe 10 or 15 minutes, it was suggested that we have a picnic lunch. Unspontaneous me agrees, trying to branch out a little. So I head in to wash hands and grab some snack-y food, leaving Emma to her outdoor adventures. It wasn't 30 seconds before I hear the wailing cry. Emma's running in from behind the bushes, where she apparently fell and scratched her foot on a branch. There is a miniscule speck of blood on her big toe. And I mean miniscule.
After I console her and wipe the toe clean, the (melo)drama ends. She then proceeds to explain that at first, she thought it was a strawberry on her toe. I'm trying to visualize what went on in her (occasionally absurd) little head. Possibly something like this:
Emma, looking down, talking to self: "Huh. Well, look-y there. There seems to be a tiny strawberry on my big toe."
(Moment of realization that this doesn't sound quite right.)
"Noo...wait...that's not a strawberry at all! That's...that's....WA-AA-AA-HHH!!!"
(Sigh.) What is it about 4-year-old girls?