So I’m talking to Tara on the phone. She and Regan are at a time share resort with her parents. It’s after 9 p.m. (2100 hours). I’ve already tucked both older brothers in bed and they are sleeping. And then I hear something that makes me pensively wait for the sound of a crash and a cry.
“Mommy, really… really… I can fly,” Regan excitedly exclaims in the background.
“Oh, she’s jumping on the bed,” Tara quickly says to me, “No, honey, you can’t fly… don’t fly….”
The above picture is from over two years ago, at another time when Regan discovered she could fly. Thankfully, neither of these times resulted in any injury. Regan seems to believe she can do anything – particularly anything that “her boys” (her brothers) can do (Tanner, age 9, and Keaton, age 7).
She’s also been known to tell me to give her a jar when I first try to open it and it is a tough one. She’ll say, “Daddy, give it to me; I can do it.”
