Last night my teensy asked her daddy for the big box in the garage. She’s been waiting for it for quite awhile, but this was the day of his “yes”. She was ready. She had a plan. She was making a boat.
I was emotional and feeling very weighed down as I tried to turn leftover rice and veggies into something my people would eat without complaint. You know part of it; the govenor in my state just outlawed gathering together with anyone, anywhere for the next four weeks. That is A LOT for me to try to wrap my heart around. There was more that was hard for me personally, but that’s for another day.
As I blinked back hot, stupid tears, I looked past my kitchen and saw my teensy, blankets and books pulled into the box with her. She had made her boat. For just one moment it was perfect. She was quiet and content in her boat on her imagined sea. I smiled and snapped this picture. I didn’t want to disturb her, didn’t ask her to turn and smile for me. I just let her be there, rocking gently on the waves.
As I went back to stirring I was thankful that she was able to escape all of my “no’s” and “not right now’s” in this simple and effective way. While I may wish for an actual boat on an actual ocean to take me away from my highly emotional days, I was reminded that I don’t actually need to run away. Just find the quiet that is here and accept it as it is.
I know that I’m not the only one struggling in these strange days. Please know that you are not alone. If I can help, I will. I am here with and for you. I miss you, and I am praying for the good and the gathering and the grace to return.
Climbing days are simply better than book-school days. We kinda forgot this close to us place was here, but now have been back and forth to enjoy it several times in the last couple weeks of hanging on fall. I’ve trusted in the benefits of risky play for my kids for a lot of years now, but sometimes my breath still catches as they climb, the shout to be cautious falling silent just as it is about to be shouted out.
Not that book school isn’t important, but my kids sure do learn a lot on these rocks, as well as in open fields and along riverbanks and up in tall pine trees on the back corner of our in town lot. I need my kids to have literacy and numeracy and I mostly use books and games to teach them those things, but most of the truly important stuff is taught while climbing something.
Trusting yourself is harder to learn from a book. Listening to the cues in your body and from the world around you is more difficult when staring at a screen. Building confidence in your own abilities is just not the same when you weigh math facts against knowing where to put your foot so you don’t slip down a rock wall.
So often I hear people state how learning can only happen in a classroom or can only come from a teacher. Others say that learning can happen in structured activities outdoors, but the child will need to be led or the activity facilitated. I want to just stop with this; Learning happens. It does not depend on me, or you, or us. It simply happens. There is no more needed in that sentence.
I write this down as a reflection for the days when kids need naps more than fractions or snowball fights more than sign language. The days when I doubt what I’m doing here, I will look back and remember that my kids are learning. That they are learning exactly what they need for their lives at this moment and for who they will grow into.
Look at me trusting myself a teensy bit. I must’ve learned that up on that rock pile with my babies.
This may be the last mudpie…and not only for this season. A second Summer in November and an injured ankle gave me the pause and grace to notice this moment for what it is. My baby is six, there may be more mudpies, but this is one of the last for her. I’m thankful that I was able stand on the deck quietly, letting her be little for a little while longer. I wish for her a long life of muddy knees and dirt under her fingernails. Tangled hair and lack of care over it. Mostly, that the joy remains all the days of her life.
Mushrooms and other fungi are always interesting to me, recently my AJ picked up this curiosity of mine. He will now grab my phone and snap pictures of all the mushrooms on all of our walks. He is fascinated with both the taking of pictures and the way mushrooms hide in all of the best places. I leave this note here as a reminder that the curiosity of childhood will follow a child far, if we will just let it, not spoil it, or force it, or lock it into a room.