Pointless writting to pass the time outisde

I sat outside and watched four children.

One is a girl of about three, with short cropped dark hair, in pink sweatpants and a lemon yellow t-shirt. Her sandals are boyish, dark blue, and might be a hand-me-down of her brother. She plays with an orange basket ball, bouncing it and chasing after it, as it bounces and rolls out of reach. There is a boy, who is at most five, wears an orange and navy blue shirt and pants that are baggy but do not go down past his ankles. He plays with a large green plastic truck, pushing it along the sidewalk. Together, the young boy and girl venture down the way, each playing with their own toy. Behind them, on her silver scooter, follows a girl of nine or ten. She is tall, skinny, with long brown hair tied in a pony tail at the nape of her neck. I would call her pretty, graceful, serene.

The forth child is off in her own world, where the neighbourhood cats actually stop and stand still, and allow her to pet them. She is dressed in a pink shirt, with a glittery silver butterfly adorning the front, jean shorts with a colourful tie at the waist, and pink Barbie sneakers that light up with each step she takes. She rides up and down the sidewalk on a pink princess bike, streamers in the handlebars trailing in the wind. Her bike is complete with a matching princess bike horn and bike bag. Inside the bag are twin unicorns, riding in the pockets, along with a pair of pink and green sunglasses. There is a princess sack on her back, containing princess knee and elbow pads, and biking gloves. She stops periodically to put these items on, and then to take them off again. She rides on.

The littlest girl spies my cat, sitting behind me. I ask if she wants to pet it, and put the cat on my lap. She replies to me, in a language I cannot identify, and makes her face into a scowl at the cat before running off to retrieve her fallen ball. A closer look at her shoes, I can see they are not hand-me-downds from a boy. They have little dolls on them.

The truck and ball are soon forgotten, as the young girl runs around and the boy now fearlessly take up the abandoned scooter. The handles are higher than he is tall. The older girl comes towards me and pets the cat, running her hand down the cat's back, and then back up towards its head, ruffling the fur.