I love to watch Monkey exploring his world. When he discovers something new (and let's face it most things are new to those that are two) I feel like I get to experience it all over again too. It reminds me of how I felt as a child. My dad used to try to explain this wonderful parenting phenomena to me via this story:
When I was little, my dad would take me on walks around the neighborhood. When this began he was really into getting from point A to point B--that's what a walk is all about, right? You're going somewhere for goodness sake! Well, that (of course) was not what walks were about for me. Walks were about discovering new things and picking up gross stuff. One day I stopped (yet again) and was bent down looking at something up close and personal. My dad stopped to look too. I was about to touch some chewed up gum and his instinct was to pull me away from the disgusting glob and continue on the walk. But on this day I looked up at my dad, pointed at the glob and said, "horsey!" with such joy and wonder that he stopped and looked at the gum blob. He's told me this story again and again and always says, "and damn if it didn't look like a horse!" So from that day on he decided to slow down and look at life from kid-level (and he hasn't stopped since--love you dad!). I try desperately to do that and some days I succeed (and of course many days I don't).
Last week we played with a snail. It had rained in the morning and the snails were all over the place. They were desperately trying to get back to cover as the sun was now blazing. He found a few in the driveway and then (after I was ordered to find more snails) we went all over the yard looking under big leaves and finding whole families. After his interest dwindled he decided to ride his trike around the deck while I fixed up his muffin tin lunch. As I was arranging the fruit I hear, "Mommy! It's moving!" so I come out to see what the fuss is all about. He'd found another snail stuck to the bottom of the plastic cup he uses to water the plants with his leftover pool water each night. Now, as a child I thought snails were cool and exotic (because we didn't have any that I know of in Seattle--the first time I ever saw them was in California and I thought they were the cutest things). Well, times have changed for me and snails and now they are the bane of my existence (well, my garden's existence) and when I see snails I don't feel all cuddly anymore. But enough about that . . . I held all my hatred for the snail inside and shared the moment with Monkey. I showed him how the tentacles shrink when you touch them gently and how it pulls back into his shell, etc. I brought out lunch while he was still "experimenting." As I came out he was talking to the snail and he offered to share his lunch. He decided the snail would like some cantaloupe so gave him some. All in all it was a great little moment in kid-dom that I got to share. After all the cuteness was over he threw him onto the driveway (oops). I feigned concern for the snail but inside I was cheering that the little bastard wouldn't be eating our tomatoes (although I'm sure his cousins will).
When I was little, my dad would take me on walks around the neighborhood. When this began he was really into getting from point A to point B--that's what a walk is all about, right? You're going somewhere for goodness sake! Well, that (of course) was not what walks were about for me. Walks were about discovering new things and picking up gross stuff. One day I stopped (yet again) and was bent down looking at something up close and personal. My dad stopped to look too. I was about to touch some chewed up gum and his instinct was to pull me away from the disgusting glob and continue on the walk. But on this day I looked up at my dad, pointed at the glob and said, "horsey!" with such joy and wonder that he stopped and looked at the gum blob. He's told me this story again and again and always says, "and damn if it didn't look like a horse!" So from that day on he decided to slow down and look at life from kid-level (and he hasn't stopped since--love you dad!). I try desperately to do that and some days I succeed (and of course many days I don't).
Last week we played with a snail. It had rained in the morning and the snails were all over the place. They were desperately trying to get back to cover as the sun was now blazing. He found a few in the driveway and then (after I was ordered to find more snails) we went all over the yard looking under big leaves and finding whole families. After his interest dwindled he decided to ride his trike around the deck while I fixed up his muffin tin lunch. As I was arranging the fruit I hear, "Mommy! It's moving!" so I come out to see what the fuss is all about. He'd found another snail stuck to the bottom of the plastic cup he uses to water the plants with his leftover pool water each night. Now, as a child I thought snails were cool and exotic (because we didn't have any that I know of in Seattle--the first time I ever saw them was in California and I thought they were the cutest things). Well, times have changed for me and snails and now they are the bane of my existence (well, my garden's existence) and when I see snails I don't feel all cuddly anymore. But enough about that . . . I held all my hatred for the snail inside and shared the moment with Monkey. I showed him how the tentacles shrink when you touch them gently and how it pulls back into his shell, etc. I brought out lunch while he was still "experimenting." As I came out he was talking to the snail and he offered to share his lunch. He decided the snail would like some cantaloupe so gave him some. All in all it was a great little moment in kid-dom that I got to share. After all the cuteness was over he threw him onto the driveway (oops). I feigned concern for the snail but inside I was cheering that the little bastard wouldn't be eating our tomatoes (although I'm sure his cousins will).
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Milo fell in LOVE with a snail this summer. He named him squirmy and it was his best friend. Milo was heartbroken when he slimed away while we were inside eating lunch. Who knew snails could be so fast?! Every time we are in the yard we look for squirmy now and we have been wondering how we keeps warm for winter.
Milo fell in LOVE with a snail this summer. He named him squirmy and it was his best friend. Milo was heartbroken when he slimed away while we were inside eating lunch. Who knew snails could be so fast?! Every time we are in the yard we look for squirmy now and we have been wondering how we keeps warm for winter.
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