Poor Princess Belle

I hate when poor Princess Belle goes outside to play here. I hover in the kitchen window watching, willing myself to relax and not to worry. But I do worry. And in a few minutes, Princess Belle comes in, the hoodlums in this neighborhood have done it again. They have thrown things at her, they have made fun of her, they have been mean and made her cry AGAIN! I HATE it!

When she was little and first learning to walk, I wanted to pad the world, to walk around with a pillow in my hand ready to soften her falls. And now, she is older and her falls hurt so much worse and I want to walk ahead of her with my arms crossed over my chest, looking like a mean, momma bear/body guard. I want to go ahead of her and tell the other kids, "BE NICE, or I WILL make you sorry!"

My poor, sweet, gentle girl. I think the reason she enjoys spending so much time with her sisters and other younger children is that they accept her and she is.  I wish more kids would do that for her.