There is nothing sweeter than the sight of two little girls giggling and playing together.  I had forgotten what it was like to want to whisper some nonsensical secret into a friend’s ear or show someone my room or my things.  Times are so different; play dates have replaced randomly running wild.  I recently read somewhere that children spend less time outdoors now than prisoners.  What a sad, horrifying thought.  I think I had an advantage growing up in an apartment because all the kids met at the playground.  We were a roaming pack that played tether ball, rode our Big Wheels everywhere, hung upside down from metal monkey bars and, if it was not a safer time, it certainly was a more naive one.  My mother said I could go as far as the sound of her voice.  And when she called me in for supper I ran like the wind getting home.  I had grass stains and bruises on my knees.  Now kids have sunscreen and insect repellent with plastic playgrounds.  My little one was thrilled when her friend came over and they disappeared upstairs to play.  When her daddy swept her up to take her home we were sad to see her go.  Look at the joy in this picture.  I want my little one to have the freedom to make friends and play without worry just as I did growing up.  The venue may have changed but the sentiment has not.  Mencius, the ancient Chinese philosopher, once said, “Friends are the siblings God never gave us.”