Lyla loves this tunnel because it reminds her of being born.
She's very uneasy about grass, does not want to touch it with her hands. She must have heard the phrase "blades of grass" and thereafter associated it with knives. "Stay away from knives, Lyla! They'll slice your fingers into blood-spurting knuckle-stumps! Now crawl to Dada through those blades of grass."
I tried to convince her as gently as I could that she was being a prissy little girl, a strategy that could not have been less effective. So I reached in and pulled her out, and once again the wiggling, crying child found herself delivered into the great shining world.
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