Going Places

Lyra is going places.

The untrained eye may see a baby with poorly controlled hair, an uncoordinated outfit and stockinged feet despite the slightly damp grass; but that is an elaborate disguise beneath which lies the most determined of babies.

She wants to push the trundle truck until its wheels weep for mercy.

We did laps of the living room. Several thousand times.

We did circuits of the whole length of the bungalow. Several hundred times.

But she wanted more. Much more.

So we took her to the biggest flattest place we could think of and we set her free.

So don't be fooled by the street urchin looks. She's a baby that's going places. Even if today those places are just from one end to the other of Sanderstead Cricket Green.