“Momma, I want to press letters.”
And so we are. I remember being her age and sitting at my mother’s blue typewriter, tongue sticking out of my mouth as I poked away at the keys. The satisfying click and thunk of the keys striking the paper roll.
This morning she read the white letters on the STOP sign in one of her picture books.
“S-T-O-P. Stop. That’s a stop sign.”
Ellie might not recognize the connection between what she’s saying and what she’s seeing, but that’s OK.
She’ll get there.
“I holded it up and I holded it down and I banged my heart in weightlessness.”
Yep. That’s my girl.