Big Adventures for Tiny Humans, No. 6
We’re expecting a high of 70 today, so this memory from two summers ago feels exactly right. I can’t wait for the coming months of warm weather and outdoor adventures, in our own yard and (with any luck) beyond. Now in our fourth week of COVID-19 quarantine, I continue to need this reminder: little ones know best how to play, follow their lead.
Go outside. She says it as I barely crack open her door. It's 7 am.
Eat breakfast; go outside.
Yes, we'll go outside in a little while.
She smiles, nods. Go outside.
Encouragement, insistence, tickles - she finally agrees to the diaper change. She keeps pushing the bedhead hair tangle out of her face but refuses a ponytail.
Downstairs we go. A slice of un-toasted bread, a thin coat of peanut butter, a slightly more generous coat of jelly, sliced for tiny hands to manage easily and arranged as flower petals on a cutting board. The flower's center? Cut grapes; uvas she says. I bring the cutting board to her little table. Jugo? she asks as I barely set down the board. Yes, love, I'll get it. A splash of orange juice in a big girl glass with a straw; she loves it.
She eats, I tidy the kitchen. She grows restless, I read library books and she eats some more. I finish the dishes, she plays. Eventually, go outside? Upstairs she makes outfit choices and I wrestle her into a ponytail, maybe two; we brush teeth.
Sometimes we have errands to run, appointments to meet, toddler gatherings to attend. Other days we linger at home; those days, I think, are her favorite. Bubbles? Always bubbles first. But we quickly move along to swinging and sliding, ball-bouncing and tricycle-pushing. Eventually, she decides it's time to water the flowers. If it's grown too late in the morning or the heat is too thick we'll put it off until evening, but if she had her way, we'd spend the better part of the day watering and watering, drenching the soil so no plant could possibly survive. That's toddler gardening love.
I agree and she goes straight for the watering cans, tucked just inside the garage, both standard plastic cans from the gardening department of some hardware store, one big and one small. I pull out the hose, turn on the water, fill her can. Then off she goes to tend to her flowers, usually re-watering the ones I've already doused with the hose. A few perennials, newly planted this season and needing some extra care. Annuals in the window boxes on her swing set; more annuals in pots on the deck. Again and again she empties her can and returns for a refill. As I finish winding the hose, nearly done for today, she appears this time with both cans. More aqua. Filled and the hose turned off, I carry both cans to the front of the house and we take turns watering the pots of annuals by the door.
This week we'll add pots of herbs, basil, rosemary, perhaps a few more. We'll replace the hanging flower baskets that looked great at first and then burnt to a crisp in the Memorial Day sun. Each day, the watering ritual will continue.
When lunch time rolls around, we spread a blanket on the driveway and bring the cutting board and a variation of breakfast outside. This time it's mini circle crackers, each with a dollop of peanut butter and jelly, and sliced mango. Picnic-time, she slips off her shoes, giggles, the special thrill of being barefoot outdoors. We both look forward to nap time, but she makes toddlerhood look pretty good.
