She's mine.

Eat first.  This was Kinsley's order to Emma as they sat down to their chicken nuggets at Chick-fil-a.  Her eyes never left they play area from the moment we entered the door.  Her four year old friend kept instructing and encouraging through the quick shove-five-fries-in-at-once meal so they could go play.  Crumbs still greased into her cheeks, she slid across my body in the booth in one effortless swoop, and her feet hit the floor before I could get a hold of her.  She ran.  Lost in the long legs setting up barrier to the desired destination, she ran left.  Behind the counter she went, ducking between and around the limbs of college kids serving fries.  Not knowing what to do, I watched and continued to call out to my child as she trekked back and forth under the drive thru window dodging the grasps of the workers, and making a come-and-get-me mockery of the people at this fine establishment.  Parents laughed and kids cheered as she made her way around the tables in the forbidden food preparation areas.  She is mine.  With red cheeks and outstretched arms I claimed her as the manager cheerfully chased her towards me, obviously proud that he was able to catch up with my 2.5 ft toddler.  Everything about this child reminds me who she belongs to, especially her resistance to boundaries.  I'm sure that this will not be my last time being embarrassed by this rebellious run away, but no matter how red the cheeks, I'll always step forward to claim her.  She is mine.  By the way, we will be investing in a kiddie leash.