Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Irony. The unexpected.
I arrived home after a day at school that involved state testing, miscommunications, new perspectives, and good literary discussions with my students. I arrived home to my fiance's son, who I haven't seen in several days. How tall he seemed to have gotten. Or was it the new pants causing the illusion? My fiance noted the growth first, and so I asked C, two (and a half) years old, "How tall are you?"
His response? "Taller and taller."
What an unexpected, but accurate answer! I joined my fiance and our new philospher on the floor, where a parking lot of toy cars was being assembled.
After sharing the stressful parts of my day with my fiance, I was able to sit back and observe the peaceful play of a two-year-old carefully arranging his cars on the floor. I laid my head down on the carpet and looked at things from his perspective. How large everything around our apartment loomed. Tall dining table, large lamp hanging from the ceiling, patio doors that seem to soar up to the sky. But he wasn't overwhelmed by these surroundings, he was focused on the task at hand. The simple joy of moving his cars to just the right spot. He didn't have to worry about the fact that he can't reach the table top just yet, nor can he come close to reaching the lightbulb dangling from the lamp if it needed changing. These issues, much like the ones that were stressors from my day, don't seem so looming when you get down to "it", whatever "it" may be for you at the moment.
Why wasn't he worried? Because he is getting taller and taller and he'll get there one day. We all will.