It seems very sudden that we have a gaggle of small female children between the ages of five and eight in our neighborhood, or maybe I’m just aware of them now that our dog, Morgan, has become their favorite playmate. Two or three times each day, the doorbell rings and we open it to find a beaming little face and a singsong voice asking “Can Morgan come out and play?”  It’s great – they all run around squealing with Morgan leaping into the air.

The other day, someone brought chalk and our sidewalk is now adorned with pictures of rainbows, sunshine and ponies. When I went out to get Morgan, one of the girls looked at me with a big, sincere smile and said “Morgan kind of rolled in the chalk.”  Well, maybe the smile only looked sincere. Morgan had a large blue stripe carefully colored from her nose, up between her eyes, and onto the top of her head. Since she doesn’t possess thumbs, it seems unlikely she did it herself. Sure Morgan needed a bath after that play date, but how could I do anything but smile and appreciate the joy of being a little girl?