Her name is Skye and she flies, either by piloting a helicopter or the wings that pop out of her back when the dark button is pressed. She wears pink goggles and jackets and back packs when she’s called to save the four bunnies.
“What’s happened to the bunnies?” I ask my granddaughter.
“We must save them,” she says.”Paw Parol to the rescue!”
She puts her gray Paw Patrol baseball cap on. I’m already wearing my NYYankees cap.
“Helmets on,” I say.
And this is how it goes for an hour: much flying over fires and spraying the Peace Lilies so they won’t catch fire; lotsa freeing bunnies from basket traps and fallen coasters; and endless lowering and raising of a twine rope from the coffee table to the sisal rug so the bunnies may climb up or down, depending.
Three years old! Anything’s possible now that the planet of make believe has begun to spin, A revolution of imagination that makes anything possible, even while wearing pink.