Of toddlers

Life teaches us that we must hurry along, don't ask too many questions, and certainly don't throw ourselves on the floor in the supermarket when our favorite cookies are out of stock.

Welcome to this gentle space where I gather thoughts and stories from my life as a writer, innkeeper, and accidental restaurant owner. I live in the Adirondack Mountains, but you’ll also find me wandering a beach or journaling alongside a stream or lake. Come and explore this magical world with me … we’ll find what matters tucked into the nooks and crannies of life.

Four of my five adopted children arrived in our home as "older" children.  On the bright side, we avoided a lot of stinky diapers, toddler tantrums, and parent-teacher conferences.  On the not-so-bright side, we missed out on a lot of sweet snuggles, first steps, and childhood bonding memories.  Each child navigated a unique path as they found their place in their new family.

Our youngest daughter came to us at ten days old.  As I rocked her tiny body in the night, I couldn't imagine loving her more.  Then, she began to smile and babble, and I thought, "This is the best stage."  Until she began to walk and talk and play so sweetly with her big sister and I decided THAT stage was my favorite.  And then she started school and was just so adorable in her tiny uniform with her bright, eager eyes and I wanted to freeze her for awhile to cherish every day.

Any parent or grandparent knows how sweet each stage is and I still don't know which one is my favorite! (Probably not the teen years!)

But there is something especially magical about toddlers.

Almost every morning, my daughter Facetimes me and I share the morning routine with her and "little bubby," my 18-month-old grandson.  Blinking in the dim morning light, he gives his mama some slobbery kisses interspersed with pulling her hair and clonking her on the head with his sippy cup. 

Diaper changing is next - an event that closely resembles a high school wrestling match.  As mama tries to pin the flailing legs down long enough to secure the diaper, I'm never quite sure who will prevail.  

Next, little man runs around the room in his fresh diaper saying hello to various stuffed animals and sliding down his bright red sliding board. His bare legs "stick" to the slide so mama persuades him to get dressed.  

Usually, somewhere between wriggling into pants and pulling a shirt over his head, he toddles off to find a book - always one of the same three.  Scootching his little bottom up against mama's belly, he plops down dramatically, leaning back against her for his morning story.  As mama reads a rap-style version of "Llama Llama, Red Pajama," he only takes his eyes off the page long enough to be sure I'm listening too.

Once dressed, the fun truly begins.  Now he can slide down the slide easily -  feet first, head first, or sideways.  Sometimes he even slides down with the kitten!  He throws a few balls into his basketball hoop and bounces a few off his mama.  

He giggles.  He tumbles.  He cries.  He hugs.  He climbs.  

He stops by the phone to wave at Mimi (me) and play a quick game of peek-a-boo.

Over and over, he returns to my daughter's arms just for a moment. To lean against her.  To get a kiss.  To climb on her back.  To sit on her head.

Each time, she welcomes him and my heart melts a little more.

Surely THIS is the best stage!

Eventually, the duo makes it downstairs where it's time for breakfast, a few songs with "Miss Rachel," a chase around the living room to get the shoes and jacket on ... and finally venturing out into the big world.

Of course, we must take time to walk the curb or pick up a leaf on the way to the car.  

There is no hurrying with a toddler.  

Well ... you can try it if you'd like, but any attempt to rush the process along usually ends with the toddler sprawled on the floor screaming and the mom wanting to do the same.

Teetering on the curb between babyhood and childhood, toddlers come packed with pure emotion, curiosity, and tenacity.  They know exactly what they want and will literally climb over you to get it.

Whether pulling a "yucky" morsel from their mouth and flinging it across the kitchen or plastering your face with a sticky kiss, toddlers have zero inhibitions about letting you know how they feel about any and all of their experiences!

Thankfully, most of us outgrow the impulse to lick kitty litter or pull our mother's hair.  But sadly, we also outgrow the ability to turn ordinary objects into fascinating toys, to explore anything and everything with deep curiosity, and to express our emotions genuinely.

Life teaches us that we must hurry along, don't ask too many questions, and certainly don't throw ourselves on the floor in the supermarket when our favorite cookies are out of stock.

While our manners may be better (questionable sometimes!), we learn to live a life focused on performance and productivity -forgetting how magical the world around us can be.

Recently, I took a walk with a two-year-old.  It may sound dramatic to say that one autumn stroll changed my life, but hey ... in toddler world, it's all or nothing, right?

Come along and walk with us ... and maybe give your inner toddler permission to dawdle, discover, and downright demand a little more magic this week!

I Took a Walk with a Two Year Old

His mama needed a few quiet moments, so we donned our coats and set off on an errand.

He tucked his little hand in mine as we sucked on lollipops. The first lollipop I've had in a decade or two.

Up over the hill and down the other side, he hummed a little tune – soft bursts of cheer in the crisp air.

There was no hurry.

Used to power-walking, I felt awkward with the slow pace. Until I realized that I had already noticed the watermelon flavor of the lollipop, the sweet tune, the lone autumn flower still clinging to a bush, the beautiful, clear day.

Black truck. Red car. BIG truck.

The lollipops gone now, the chatter began. We named trees, stop signs, colors … we stopped to watch a bird hopping in a bush.

I carried him across an intersection. On the other side, he wasn't ready to be put down quite yet. So I stood looking at the lake, feeling the sweet weight in my arms as he laid his head on my shoulder for a few moments.

We waved to a few ducks. “Hi, duck!”

He jumped off every single rock. 

One. Two. Three. Jump. 

One. Two. Three. Jump.

A dump truck passed and on a whim, I moved his tiny arm up and down, and sure enough … honk, honk! We giggled.

Another truck and another. 

Three times we made the big trucks honk. 

Three times we giggled.

On the way home, he discovered the joy of kicking the leaves someone had blown to the edge of the sidewalk. With long swishing strides, we kicked and rustled our way along until he decided it would be more fun to crawl like a dog.

“Amy do!”

(This is where I drew the line on joining his childlike wonder!)

The final hill was the slowest. We stopped a few times ... I'm not sure why. I waited in the warm sun as he looked around, up and down, before continuing.

And as I waited, I remembered so many other mornings I'd shared with two year olds. “Hurry hurry …. get in the car. We're going to be late. What are you doing? Put down that rock. Can you be quiet for just a minute?? Let's GO!”

So many other days when I had places to be and things to do and no time for nonsense.

The funny thing is …. I can't remember why I was in such a hurry. 

What was I doing?

What was more important than holding a small hand, sucking a lollipop, humming a tune, a head on my shoulder, waving at ducks, jumping off rocks, making trucks honk, giggling, kicking leaves …. or just standing still on a bright, clear day?

I can't remember.

I took a walk with a two year old this week. And I can't remember anything more precious.