I walk the distance

I usually have lots of energy, I wriggle in my chair. And mama likes to walk better than going to the playground. So she say this morning: shall we walk to the bridge, Ces? I am thinking of the bridge last week, where we went with papa. No, mama says, another bridge. Is good too, I think.

But my Miffy needs to come too.

We go, and we cross the football fields, there are no boys playing soccer yet. Then we take the stairs up the bridge, through the glass corridor and see my windmill in the distance, over the railway, then down to the cows with the baby cows.

And then we are nearly at Gabrielle's house. Would she be at home on Sunday morning? Perhaps she is in church? She is, but her papa opens the door and offers a refreshment.

Will we make is back home? It is a bit of a struggle for me. I lie down a couple of times, but in the end I make it all on my own two feet! Yes! Was it two kilometers? We eat a lovely easter bun to reward ourselves. And Miffy made it back home too!