Touched by a pink pixie

I’m sitting on Selsley Common waiting for the kids to be delivered to me after school. Ahead of me a man is going for a walk with his two very small children.

My eyes are drawn to the little girl who can’t be any more than 2 years old. She is wearing a pink coat with the hood up. Her matching pink stripy tights and pink shoes make for a delightful combo. At first she holds the hand of her father but then her gait transforms into a hoppity-skippety and she lets go to set off on her own. There is a type of run that only toddlers have – it can only be described as a kind of rocking bounce. Watching this little girl run makes me beam.

And then a few moments later she stops dead in her tracks. A decision has been reached. That’s enough running for one day.

“Come on” says her Dad. But she’s having none of it. She stretches out her hands to be picked up.  Dad shakes his head and indicates for her to catch up. No. Absolutely not. The pink pixie starts stamping her feet in a kind of on-the- spot run.

After another couple of attempts at persuasion, Dad finally gives in and swoops his daughter into his arms. Her delight is palpable even from this distance. Who can blame her. Now she is on top of the world held by strong arms and gets a kiss to-boot.

Who needs TV when human-o-vision can be so captivating?


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