Every day after I pick June up from school, we take a walk through the neighborhood. I pick her up out of her car seat and say "Do you want to go for a walk?" and she reminds me, "Key first," because we have to get the mailbox key.
She feels around in the drawer of the entryway table, grabs the keys and toddles out the front door. She'll usually insist on bringing the stroller (her "car") even if she wants to walk behind it and push it the whole way.
We get the mail, we visit with a pack of kids that live down the street, we point out things we see.
She has a set route she always tries to get me to take. "Dat way!" she'll exclaim, pointing down a street. "Not dat way," she'll pout, pointing down another. She wants to walk to the little shops, and sometimes I take her to Trader Joe's to pick up a few items. During this last trip, a single banana mysteriously found its way into my basket without my knowledge.
She never wants to come home. I usually have to entice her with reminders that Daddy might be home by now, and that it's so warm inside, and that we'll have dinner when we get home! Food! That child would do anything for food but come home. So sometimes I have to chase her down as she hurries off in the other direction and haul her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. ("Sack uh tatos").
To stall, she'll find something, anything in the garage to play with. Look! A push broom! It is fascinating and playing with it is so much better than going inside!
Maybe I'll start leaving little projects out in the garage. "Wow June, some laundry that needs folding! Guess you can help me match the socks!'