our figurative backyard

So I've mentioned before that Annabelle really loves to be outside. This is one of the reasons I'm most excited to have a house with a backyard. Because living on the third floor of an apartment building is simply not conducive to opening the door and letting her dig in the dirt to her heart's content. 

Instead, I have a little girl who stands at the door, trying to to twist the knob, her efforts only broken by the persistent sign for "please," (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!). Then she'll move to the window, where she'll longingly point at the trees and completely break my heart.

So she often gets her way. The other night, she saw her daddy walking through the parking lot when he got home from work. She yelped a "Dad!" and ran for the door. Of course I caved, and she spent a few hours walking up and down the curb (she's obsessed with steps and transitions between surfaces) and digging in the dirt.

A backyard can't get here quick enough.