Him Have the Hose

What a lovely, young man my nephew is.  He is only two.  Last year I saw him and he was one.  Now he’s two.  He had all of this marvellous energy.  I guess that energy is something the body has when its growing.  I can remember it.  I can almost taste it.  I can even play with him and mimic it for a while.  But his is naïve and innocent and genuine.  His body needs to grow and my body does not.

He wanted to take people by the hand and lead them out for walks to explore.  It was disruptive and enchanting and it was also assertive, wilful.  It drew out a yearning of my own, I think, to be impulsive.  It reminded me that when you are dealing with someone who is very young you need to go to them.  You can’t talk at six feet, you need to get down on your knees and ask questions at two-feet and wait patiently to receive an answer or a sign or instruction.

He and I played a game that involved running to the next room.  And then the next room.  And in each place I would stop, turn, feign surprise and trot off to the next room.  My nephew would follow.  For a while.  Then he might get distracted, which was as much communication as anything to slow down and listen.  What was he focused on?  And after a spell, it was made clear that it might be OK to be a ham once again and run off to another room, as he was now ready to follow. 

“Don’t let him have the hose.”  Instead he was given a watering can.  My nephew really liked the watering can.  He made a watery mess right by the entrance to the apartment.  I later found out that my brother was sending my nephew to a school that let kids play in the woods every day, 365-days per year.  In the rain they’d get appropriate clothes and a tarp would be set up.  I imagined my nephew going to the woods every day for his preschool experience and was very happy that he was doing so.  Certainly I was also a little jealous.

Monday 7/16/18