A three-day weekend allows us to do things we wouldn’t ordinarily do over the weekend. Trips and mini-vacations come to mind on Labor Day weekend, but we elected to stay at home. A hurricane brewing and a coughing daughter made us cancel our plans of camping at the beach, so we did things out of the ordinary.

Like go to Target.

L spent her own money, which Nana and Papa (from whom else would she have received it?) had intended the money for our trip to Polska. She’d received so many gifts — from friends, family, and a particularly sneaky godmother — that we simply didn’t encourage her to spend it.

Now the encouraging begins. What to buy? So much cash, so many princesses, so little parental support. In the end, she went with Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. The classics.

We finished Saturday at the park, with K and I musing how much she’s grown since the first time we went to this neighborhood playground. Saturday she ran wildly, losing sight of us and popping up here and there giggling. Our first visit was cautious: no running without knowing where Mama and Tata are. No climbing without a protective hand on the bottom. No swinging without a toddler swing seat.

The follower has become the leader. “Come on, Mama!” she cried out when we went to the empty baseball field. “Chase me! Catch me!” We can still catch her, but it’s not a question of three quick steps and swoosh! she’s in our arms.

She’s become a moving target, with a sure, steady gait and a strong sense of independence.

As she sat, talking to Nana and Papa, the “I can see her as a tween, as a teen, as an adult” moment washed over me all over again. The independence, the quick feet, the willingness to explore: all these things indicate the inevitable, but we so infrequently notice it.

Sunday, we headed back to the park, but this time, a large state park with a couple of lakes, a few miles of trails, and plenty of rocks for climbing.

And boats.

Blue boats.

Blue glittery boats.

“The only thing that would make this more perfect,” I suggested as we neared the paddle boats, “would be for the sparkles to be pink.”

“Right!” came the response.

Where did this love of pink come from? Pink is the stereotypical girl color, and we have in fact tried to avoid purchasing pink clothes for her. Yet pink remains the eternal runner-up in the “my favorite color” contest.

The only way to make the day more perfect was a picnic. “A picnic!” L cried. “I’m so happy!”

With a mayonnaise-cheese sandwich (what odd taste little girls can have) and all the watermelon she could eat, she certainly had cause for joy.

The walk that followed somewhat damped that joy. “I want to go home!” was a common refrain,

until we reached a small clearing with plenty of rocks for skipping (“making ducks” in Polish) and general tossing.

As might have been expected, L modified the previous refrain, adding a quick “don’t” when we suggested it was time to go.

But we were all tired, and bedtime was approaching. Only the princesses were still on their feet.