Yesterday I was up early with Holden (he hasn’t slept past 7 since I’ve been off) and when he went down for his nap, so did I. The sun was out after lunch so we went to Long Hunter in the early evening for a walk, and found that the lake had flooded most of the walking trail.
So Ray sprinted back and forth on the accessible part of the path and Holden and I went and did some swinging while a trio of very loud children pretended to be dragons and damsels in distress on the slides.
It is so bizarre and hilarious to listen to children play. The commands they give each other, the way they act when they feel they’ve been disrespected, they looks they give when they think but aren’t sure that they have hurt themselves.
Holden is not very adventurous in the way that many children are. There was this little guy — 11 or 12 months, at most — walking around in flip-flops like he was a boss. He would go up to a slide and lean on it, watching the big kids. Then boogie on over to something else.
My boy prefers to sit and watch the kids around him or play with whatever is in front of him. In this case, it was the wood chips covering the playground floor. Every now and then he’d try to sneak one in his mouth and I’d show the appropriate level of disgust and dismay so he’d get the idea that in this family we don’t eat wood chips. But he loves picking up chips and putting them somewhere else. Arranging and rearranging. Making small piles and then transferring the piles to somewhere else. Handing handfuls of chips to me until I can’t hold anymore.
I wonder what he is thinking in that sweet, shy little head of his. What neurons are firing and how those actions are shaping who he will be, what will interest and confound him. It’s endlessly fascinating to me, watching a brand new human carve out a personality and a path in a process he won’t ever remember or even know he went through.