Blonde curls stick out of Rose’s braids as she climbs up a budding tree. Once she reaches the top, she takes the pinkest, most sun-kissed flower and stuffs it in her hair, smiling. From above, Rose can see her whole kingdom; fuchsia splatters on all the trees in the forest, and the sky opens wide in front of her. As she places more buds in her hair, she exclaims, “I am the queen of flowers!”

            Bright laughter interrupts her moment of royalty. Below, Rose’s parents sit in lawn chairs, basking in the sunlight. “You are, sweetheart,” says her Mom, “but can you get down?”

            Rose glances once more at her blossoming kingdom, swings down the tree’s branches, and lands on her feet. Brushing out petals from her hair, she says, “of course, Mommy. A queen can do anything.”