|At the Portland Museum of Art,2012|
We are both picky eaters.
But we love chocolate.
We can't live without ice cream.
We dance a lot.
We dance a lot.
We like writing.
We love puns.
We like reading.
We appreciate a well-placed comma.
We enjoy visits to museums.
We wish we were better singers.
We like being the center of attention.
Ok, we demand to be the center of attention.
She was right at home on the sailboat, climbing all over it like a monkey.
|On the boat, 2012|
She loves going fast--on speed boats, in cars, on roller coasters, in golf carts...if it goes, she wants it to go at top speed. (I wouldn't even go on the roller coasters at Disney when I was a kid. She tackled Space Mountain at seven.)
And she loves, loves, LOVES flying.
My dad has a Piper Cherokee, a four-seater low-wing airplane, and Abby was introduced to it at a young age:
|Abby at one week old on the wing of dad's plane|
She had her first flight with dad at one year old:
And by age six, she was in the co-pilot seat, learning about pre-flight checks.
And then she took the controls.
|Abby, making a left turn at 2000 feet.|
I was ten when I had my first flight with Dad. I was twenty-nine when I flew with him for the second time.
Abby teases me by saying she wants to be a Wing Walker when she grows up. Her fearlessness is both terrifying and inspiring. She is rather put out that she can't solo til she's sixteen or get her private pilot's license til seventeen.
I won't be getting my pilot's license any time
soon ever, but perhaps letting my kiddo soar is adventure enough for me.