a perfect day

"Today is a perfect day!" the five year-old announced, as she ran into the house with a basket of leaves. "You want to know what it's a perfect day for?"

Well, of course.

"Leaf tracing!"

Of course. Leaf tracing.

She pulled out some paper and a stack of old crayons, peeled off the crayon wrappers, and away she went. After tracing a solid dozen, she cut them out, and then headed back outside.

Five minutes later she returned with a very large stick.

"Their TREE!"

But of course.

"This is the perfect tree for these leaves. You know why? Tall tall tall. Have we got a pot?"

I washed out a vase and she put in her tree, which immediately tipped over. I suggested small rocks; she brought in a handful of mud with traces of pebbles. We walked the mud back outside and instead picked "the prettiest sparkliest rocks in the whole driveway!"

She punched holes and laced string and hung leaves. For half an hour.

All the while the wind was going crazy outside, tossing garbage cans and whatever they once held around the street, scouring leaves off their limbs. But the inside tree just kept gaining leaves, to the point I had to start carving notches for them to hang on. And every little part of it all has been pronounced "perfect!"

Sometimes when I can't muster enough enthusiasm for the day, I wish I were five again. And sometimes just watching a five year-old marvel at the whole wide world can load me with enough enthusiasm all on its own.