sticks and stones and dandelions

Tuesday, April 16

We are treasure hunters. In the morning at 7am, Everett pulls my hand and I am up out of bed. He strides confidently in his pajamas and bare feet toward the door and I know where he is taking me. I detour him to his room, where we stop to put his shoes and a light jacket on. I keep my bare feet. Out the door we go and into the sunlight. There is nothing but the sound of birds and the smell of dewy grass. The air is a cool and fresh, good morning to us both. The trees around us are completely white with blossoms and it's pretty beautiful, holding hands just the two of us in our bedhead and pajamas. We take the cobblestone path that leads us out by the street. Along the way, there are small flowers and rocks to stop and inspect. He crouches down on his haunches and picks up a small, round rock, inspecting it in his hand. He drops the stone, stands up, and takes a few steps forward. Then thinks better of it, and goes back to get it. With it firmly in his grasp, he reaches up with his other hand to take mine and we move along. There are small flowers to smell. I grab one, hold it up to my nose and sniff in. He holds the flower up too, blows heartily out through his nose and then lets out a satisfied ahhhhhh like he's just taken a big drink of something great. They must smell mighty fine this morning.
After a while, and a few times around the yard, it's time to go in and get some breakfast. We leave our treasures outside, loved as they were, to be collected and inspected tomorrow morning. A few birds greet us on the steps before we go inside. He keeps a firm grip on my hand and stares at them intently, my little boy with his studious, furrowed brow and dirty pajama knees. I look down at my bare feet, dirty and wet now from the grass, and feel like singing right along with the birds. Because it is spring! And I am exactly where I want to be.

 Sticks and Stones
{Don't worry, he wasn't walking around with that stick. But he did pick it up and stand like that immediately. Sometimes you just get the urge to throw a really great stick over your shoulder! And then get it taken away by your mom.}



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