The newest obsession is Russian nesting dolls. Rosalie doesn't have one of her own, so she borrows Anderson's, Meri's, and Grandma's. All at the same time.
The endless loop of taking them all apart and then putting them all back together is mesmerizing. But just try carrying several pieced wooden dolls everywhere you go. They are prone to coming apart without warning, hitting the tile floor with a truly shattering sound. This has gone on for days and days.
Yesterday, they trapped her on the trampoline.
Meredith came to tell me that Rosalie was crying for me. When I got close enough I could see that she wasn't hurt. She just couldn't climb down while holding a doll in each arm.
We've made numerous trips through the field to put "Gurma's doll" back in its place. Rosalie goes and gets it again when I'm not looking. But by evening yesterday she was beginning to feel the weight. With two armfuls of wood she quavered, "I wanna go home."
"We are home, sweetheart."
"Unna go Gurma's house."
The sob building in her voice prompted me to take another look. She looked like I feel when it's past time to put the kids to bed. Luckily, Aunt "Bictoria" was just heading to Grandma's. Rosie let go of her burden with obvious relief.
Today, she has all three dolls again. And there's one in the mail with her name on it.