Our little angel.
She told me that for Christmas, I should buy Mom “a pretty rock”.
The car was in for service and for various reasons Alice and I had to pick it up which meant walking from her ballet place to the car place. Alice made it despite the cold although she complained of the distance the entire way. On the other hand Mom had a similar issue a few days before and had to offer gummy treats at the end to get Alice to proceed, a promise that turned sullen disdain to peppy steps. I only needed to mention that the alternative to stopping was freezing to death.