Most days, she feels big.
Most days, she feels confident.
Happiness practically oozes from her pores as she swings high into the clouds, climbs tall buildings, and creates works of art beyond compare.
Most days, she feels happy.
But three mornings a week, my big girl feels small.
Three mornings a week she sits frozen in her car seat, silent but for one whispered request.
“Please hold my hand, Mommy.”
I whisper back words of encouragement.
I know you feel scared, sweet girl.
I felt that way too, when I was little.
But today you get to cook. Today you get to make a dinosaur and paint outside.
She stares, vacant, out the window and watches the world pass her by.
A few minutes into the ride, the tears begin to form at the corners of her endless brown eyes…