Over the past few days, we’ve been visiting with my parents. It’s been an interesting experiment in preparation for our trip in June.
I must admit, I’ve been wondering how our 21 month old son would react faced with new surroundings and circumstances.
After the initial excitement of being somewhere new, talking to his grandparents, and bathing in a new bath tub, the next morning he was rather at a loss of what to do. At home, on our farm, our little boy is a busy fellow. He helps his dad feed animals, fetch mail, bring in wood, he helps me clean up, bake and do laundry, he plays mudpies with his sisters, has his usual selection of toys and books and goes to bed happy, content, and very, very tired.
Here, visiting with family, in a town, in an adult house, he started to wander aimlessly.
We’ve often commented on how our son has such clarity, such clear intention and focus. He decides what he’s going to do, aligns with it, does it, then on to something else. He jives about knowing his intention and it keeps his attraction point clear.
But this sudden unfocused meandering meant he was getting fussy, he didn’t get his wants met, his lack of speech turned frustrating as his intention was less readable. All in all, he was disconnected and it was upsetting to watch. I love my little boys sparkle, sometimes it can totally change a day around.
It wasn’t just a question of going home, although we could have. In the back of my mind I thought that no matter what, in 6 weeks we’re going away, and this, this is how it will be. Seems like a good testing ground.
How to get our little boy jiving again was the question? How, when there were no water bottles to dump, no mud, no chores, how to get him busy, distracted and blissfully himself?
I took him for a little walk around my parents’ yard. I showed him some flowers, I showed him my dad’s garden hose, and a few other things along the way. At first he was in my arms, refusing to be put down, by the garden hose he was walking around, holding my hand.
I put out a mental note, to find something to make him sparkle and soon inspiration had hit. In my parents land, there was a little slope, barely a hill, more of a bump, but enough.
Soon I had my son running down it, and picking up speed. He started to laugh, Holding hands together, we ran up and down the “slope” until his giggles were pouring out in a torrent. When I got tired, he dropped my hand and started on his own. He ran, tumbled and rolled, then back up again. His eyes danced, his cheeks flushed. Ah, he was back to connection with himself.
He jumped on the chance to help pick up sticks that were scattered across the little slope. He went around it, calling them “owies” as I explained they would hurt to roll on top of. He made a nice little pile, under a pine tree. There we found pine cones which he gathered for the family inside.
This happened yesterday, and you know what? He’s better today. He woke up happy and ready for the day, he played with his dad and looked for new adventures. Oh yeah, and the minute that door opens he off to his slope, just for the bliss of a beautiful roll.
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