Lucy’s been afraid of swimming pools and oceans for most of her life. As of a few months ago she’s found enthusiasm for swimming and bravery to face her fear. We went to a hotel on the beach this weekend and she’s practicing! There’s a guy nearby throwing his kids in the pool, and they laugh unencumbered laughs while begging, “again, daddy, again, please, daddy, please!”
A few recent adventures of 5-year-old Lucy. WARNING: dead bird.
I’m pretty sure this is her first original pun/joke: I slipped and fell on the stairs and Lucy said, “it’s a good thing you’re wearing your slippers.”
On October 25, 2009 while sitting in the backyard eating pizza with the neighbors, Lucy looked up and proudly grinned, “my tooth fell out!” Moya and I scrambled to figure out what the tooth fairy would do (the result: a pretty marble and a $5 bill under Lucy’s pillow).
While trick or treating on Halloween evening, Lucy saw an empty bowl by a door (with a sign that said “have a cold, can’t come to the door, help yourself”) and poured half her bag of collected candy into the empty bowl.
Trick or treat!
There have been 2 dead birds on the street at the corner of Collingwood/18th recently, a corner that we often pass by on our walk to/from school. The first was on the corner for several days and inspected daily by Lucy who was very concerned about how the bird died and whether or not someone would bury it and whether or not it hurt when it died. It was eventually gone with a few feathers left behind and then another dead bird was added to the corner. 
Lucy stomped her feet one morning while looking at the remains of the birds and declared, “I’m done with birds dying! I don’t want any more birds to die!” Then she picked up some of the feathers from the dead bird and put it on the ground near a tree because “the ground is soft and comfy for the bird, the street is hard.”
Lucy’s generally an advocate of kindness to all animals and also an inspector of all animal and insect death that she discovers. Holding Lucy’s hand while she leans close to a dead bird in the crosswalk reminds me of the times in my childhood when our cows were butchered. My younger sister wanted some parts of the cow so she could inspect and dissect them. I had to hold her hand while she walked out to the field to ask the butcher for the eyes, or whatever gross dead animal part. She was shy. I was brave but queasy. Lucy’s shy. I’m still brave and queasy.
