It's all a matter of perspective

Last year was our first experience of Chingawassa Days. As parents of a 1-year-old, and considering the oppressive heat that weekend, we didn’t attempt to participate in much.

This year, we were ready for something a bit more exciting. Knowing our toddler, we still weren’t planning to spend the whole day at the festival, but we were just sure she’d be interested in enough things to make it worth the effort.

She’s really into bouncing lately, so I thought the inflatable attractions would be a hit. If nothing else, I knew she’d love to see and pet animals.

We planned ahead and blocked out a good chunk of time Saturday morning for the glee we were sure would ensue. I charged the camera battery and packed plenty of water. I dressed her in something I was sure was “bouncing friendly.”

Only five minutes behind schedule (which is like being early when you have a 2-year-old) we set off for the park. We urged her along the whole three blocks. She dawdled, and we kept assuring each other “if only she knew what awaits her, she’d hustle.”

When we arrived at the park I immediately started scanning for the animals before we’d even paid for admission. I figured we’d start there to warm her up to the sounds and people before the big reveal: the inflatables.

On our way to the petting zoo area we had to pass by one of the fountains that’s always on in the summer. I didn’t even think about something so mundane distracting us from our course toward total awesomeness, so of course she was several yards away from me, running full speed and squealing, before I noticed she was gone.

We turned and pursued our toddler who was careening through clusters of people without any consideration for who or what she ran into.

We caught up to her at the fountain at the far end of the park. She stood in awe as though she hadn’t seen it 800 times before.

As I approached her, she turned to me and screamed like a teeny-bopper at a boy-band concert, “Mommy! The fountain! They turn the water on!”

“I see that sweetie, that’s really cool,” I said, trying to affirm her, or so I thought. “But don’t you want to go pet some animals?” I asked.

“No, I just want to look at the fountain,” she said, her last words trailing as she was walking away from me so I couldn’t force her to leave.

I relented, briefly. But I’m ashamed to admit I kept trying to convince her.

Eventually we did make it over to the animals. And, as I predicted, she was delighted.

We moved from there to the first inflatable attraction. To her credit, she did remove her shoes and climb onto the thing without being coaxed — much. But that was as far as that train went.

I had prepared myself to accept whatever my cautious little girl was willing to risk, and after only a couple inquiries if she was sure she was done, I lifted her off and put her shoes back on.

And what did she beg to do after that? Look at the fountain some more.

In fact, that’s pretty much all she wanted to do the whole time we were there.

Her wonderful father lovingly sat beside it, walked around it, and expressed amazement right along with her, but I was truly bored.

I tried to fake it, but kids know fake when they hear it. She eventually stopped trying to engage me in her wonder and stuck with her dad. I’m sure she could hear me thinking, “We didn’t pay to stand around and stare at something we can see every day!”

In fact I think I was saying this out loud when it hit me — isn’t that what I love about her?

She has said something about the fountains being on or off almost every time we have driven past them since they turned them off in the fall.

When the fountains came back on a couple weeks ago she talked about it every time we got in the car. I should have seen it coming.

When I finally squatted down Saturday to hear what she was saying, I heard her talking about the water going in and out, about the sounds, the wetness, the shapes, the coldness of it.

And isn’t that one of the things I have so loved about being a parent? That she is consumed by wonder in things I barely even look at anymore, and this invites me to stop and enjoy some wonder of my own.

She has never been a risk taker or one to thrill at lots of noisy new things with lots of people around. That’s just not my kid.

But I can’t even count how many times something old has become new in our house by the mere fact that Lyla has discovered something new about the way it moves or how it relates to other things in her world.

She can see a universe of sensation and fascination in a fountain I hadn’t even dipped my fingers into maybe since the week we moved here — not until Saturday that is.

She was right, the water was moving very fast. It was cold and loud, but the cold was refreshing and the sound helped me tune out the world around me and tune in to the world of wonder at my fingertips.

As published in the Marion County Record, June 8, 2011

Share in our laughter

One of the joys of having a toddler is getting to hear the funny things they say. And I’m lucky enough to have a toddler who is both very verbal and very much a budding comedian. So, I thought for some laughs to kick off summer with a smile, I’d share some of the funnier things we’ve heard in recent months at our house that made me laugh or mass text my friends and family.

• Upon opening a box of clothing she was gifted at Christmas, Lyla exclaimed, “I found laundry!”
• After she guzzled a whole cup of juice one day I commented she must be a thirsty bear (a phrase used often in my family). She looked at me quizzically and asserted, “No, I a thirsty Lyla.”
• I call my husband by his first name often, which has resulted in Lyla calling him Michael as often is she calls him Daddy. I was trying to explain names one day and told her, “Daddy’s name is Michael. Mommy’s name is Amanda.” I asked if she knew Lyla’s name. She thought about it and answered after a thoughtful pause with her finger on her chin, “Well, it’s not Sponge Bob.” I was silent, mostly because she’s never seen the show as far as I know, but then she looked at me and cracked up. She was telling a joke.
• In yet another teaching moment turned comedic opportunity, I was talking to Lyla about different kinds of families. “Some families,” I told her “have a mommy and daddy just like yours. Some families have just a mommy with no daddy. Some have just a daddy with no mommy. Some families have two mommies. Some have two daddies.” At which point she chimed in with, “Some have two basketballs. Some have two toes,” and then began to giggle at her own hilarity.
• Prior to a recent trip to the zoo I asked Lyla if she wanted to feed the giraffes, like last time. She replied, “Probly not. I’mma feed a tiger!”
• “Excuse you car.” Directed at a car passing by our house as it revved its engine suddenly.
• “MOMMY! I WANNA SNUGGLE!” Yelled menacingly from her crib upon waking to tell me she’s ready to be done with her nap ... not the most enticing invitation I’ve had to snuggle.
• She’s clued in to the fact that if she asks only for ONE more, when we acquiesce she will only be getting ONE more of whatever she’s asking. So, now the request is “Mommy, I want FIVE more.”
• Sometimes in frustration, but also trying to keep things light, when she has started every sentence that day with “I want,” I will respond with, “Well I want a million dollars but we don’t always get what we want.” Not great parenting, I know. The other day when I went to get her up from a nap I asked what she wanted (I meant for a snack). She responded, “I want a million dollars.”
• In an equally impressive turn of the table on me, the next day as I woke her she asserted, “I want twenty dollars.” Apparently she figured out $20 was something I might actually have.
• Planting flowers the other day in the back yard, Lyla was digging with her special shovel in the dirt, her back turned to me. Suddenly she turned to me as if a thought had just occurred to her and asked, “Hey, you know Handy Manny, right?”

For every one of the hilarious things Lyla says there’s at least a dozen times I pull it out of my memory to lift my spirits on a bad day. I hope by sharing her words I can lift others as well. 

As published in the Marion County Record, June 1, 2011