Nov. 7th, 2007

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When Daddy and Claire went in to wake up Elizabeth this morning, she was all wrapped up in her blanket. "Crack!" went a voice, and her legs popped out. "Crack!" again, and her arms. "Crack!" one last time, and she threw off the blanket and stood up. "I'm a butterfly!" she announced.

"Are you going to fly downstairs?" Piet asked.

"No, my wings are still too wet," she answered.

Piet went off to get dressed, and I tried to get Elizabeth dressed. She stood on her bed with her arms held out to her sides. "My wings are drying, Mommy," she told me. I managed to get her to dress herself, without hurting her fragile wet wings. Then she flew downstairs - where she asked for milkweed for breakfast.

Not only does she have an active imagination, she's internalized an awful lot of details about a butterfly's life, and can use them in role. That's an excellent example of higher-order thinking, there. I'm so proud of her I could burst.

May 2020

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