A walk is what we needed, but the stroller was in the car trunk and the car with the husband, so that trusty red wagon was loaded with all sixty-five pounds of my offspring. Now I can report this was a major mistake as my arms are protesting even the slightest movement of my fingers, two miles later.
The older one, he is content to play the role of passenger, as he silently studies the world that passes. Unless there happens to be rocks that need to be thrown into a lake, which came later.
But, that younger one, you know, the brave, doer, experiencer, she suggests every 15 seconds, “bwallk,” because now that she knows how, she has no need for sitting, ever again. At 16 months, she feels strongly about doing everything and doing it herself. Sometimes, she holds my hand, to appease me or whatever, but mostly just long enough to get her balance.
look out world, I have this baby girl and you have no idea the life that radiates from her beautiful self.
I strongly believe that children are born explorers and they belong in their element that is the nature world and so I often let them walk as I pull the empty wagon. And furthermore, walks should not only exhaust the mother. She wobbles in the best way and he comes beside her, hold my hand harpsiedoie. He is so proud in his helpful state and she feels so grown walking with him. But, their strides do not match and it is short lived.
She shines of freedom and joy as she continues down the winding trail and all we pass swoon at her fresh-wobbly baby steps. Because they know or remember or because it’s just this incredible wonder how children grow.
And we find a quiet place where the path opens to the lake and he immediately sits and begins to throw the rocks one by one into the water, his happy place. It takes two minutes before she’s seated to his left and is grabbing anything her chubby hands can throw too.
Slowly, she inches away, closer and closer to the shallow water, not asking permission, not meeting my eyes.. So much brave and just enough cautious. And then half of her legs are covered in the debris from the edge, sticks, mud, and something green. But, she plays and picks out colorful rocks and now the water is splashing on the lower part of her belly. Pants, shoes, everything soaked and she thinks nothing of it. The other one, his shoes get wet and he’s back on dry ground.
She looks up and declares, brrr, splashes and scoots deeper, far enough, I decide and she protests with all the passion she can find. And she’s so mad over the injustice of the matter, for a decent while was we continue down the path away from this new world that she wants to know.
And the whole time I all I can think of is the greatness of her bravery and how fearless is in her blood and I wonder at the task I’ve been given to protect and nurture those pieces of her.
To keep her safe, but never to break her spirit. Show her how to fly so she will be able soar.
As we get closer to home, she sits barefoot in her shirt and diaper and I begin to hear the softest, “bwallk?”
My girl, you will soar.