"Ooh, look! A bird has become petrified and lost its sense of direction."
Abbie loves rocks. This is in the proud children’s tradition of shunning the latest, most innovative and educational toy to play with the packaging it came in. Here, Abbie is ignoring the wonderful birthday presents others bought for her and the fantastic garage sale finds I bought for her, some of which cost as much as three dollars, and playing with the rocks outside our home. Apparently the home’s previous residents were as adept at growing plants as I am, but instead of planting vegetation anyway, they surrounded the house with smallish rocks maybe one to three inches big and called it landscaping.* The only real flora in our custody is a rosebush in front of the house which cannot be killed, try as we might. These rocks have the same effect as salting the earth since we’d have to move hundreds, maybe thousands of little rocks to clear the space for a garden, and us having the time and energy for that is about as likely as Katie Holmes filling a prescription for Paxil.
Not having plants around the house is fine with Abbie, though. When I take her outside, I like to place her in the grass and let her wander. This is a lot of fun for her since she gets to explore outside, and a lot of fun for me since I can parent without having to do anything besides watch her to ensure she doesn’t put anything in her mouth or step in any dog residue. I try to keep her in the grass because that’s the shadiest part of the yard, plus she’s usually barefoot and walking on the grass has to be more comfortable than walking on the concrete around our house. Sooner or later, she usually disregards my concerns of shade and comfort and strays onto the hot concrete surrounding our house to play with rocks.
Abbie usually begins playing with rocks by picking up one. From here she can do several things. She can put it in her mouth, an action we strongly object to. Abbie rarely puts rocks in her mouth, though. More often she will bring the rock up to the precipice of her mouth, and then hold it there as if she’s remembering, “oh yeah, these don’t taste good. I must be thinking of dog food.” From here, she might examine the rock with her eyes and fingers, noting if it’s smooth or bumpy, flat or round, gray or a different shade of gray, and other observations that could assist her in a future life in science, or just a night of chucking rocks at things. She might also just drop the rock and grab a new one, or she might deposit it in the barrel I use as a vegetable planter in the backyard. If I’m close enough, one of her favorite rock activities is placing it in my hand. Besides being very cute, this action shows that she’s learning to share, to give something to another person for no other reason than to let him experience it, although she still has some learning to do because she usually immediately takes the rock back. She usually then gives the rock back to me, and we repeat this cycle until she loses interest in passing the rock, or until I lose interest in encouraging her. Then she’ll pick up another rock, realize that it isn’t dog food either, and continue playing merrily with her free rocks while my mind ponders fabulously important thoughts, like “’Katie Holmes’ can be rearranged to spell ‘Eskimo Lathe.’”
* We also have a backyard that could best be described “weeds being choked out by grass,” but we share the yard with others in our complex, so that’s not the previous resident’s fault.
Not having plants around the house is fine with Abbie, though. When I take her outside, I like to place her in the grass and let her wander. This is a lot of fun for her since she gets to explore outside, and a lot of fun for me since I can parent without having to do anything besides watch her to ensure she doesn’t put anything in her mouth or step in any dog residue. I try to keep her in the grass because that’s the shadiest part of the yard, plus she’s usually barefoot and walking on the grass has to be more comfortable than walking on the concrete around our house. Sooner or later, she usually disregards my concerns of shade and comfort and strays onto the hot concrete surrounding our house to play with rocks.
Abbie usually begins playing with rocks by picking up one. From here she can do several things. She can put it in her mouth, an action we strongly object to. Abbie rarely puts rocks in her mouth, though. More often she will bring the rock up to the precipice of her mouth, and then hold it there as if she’s remembering, “oh yeah, these don’t taste good. I must be thinking of dog food.” From here, she might examine the rock with her eyes and fingers, noting if it’s smooth or bumpy, flat or round, gray or a different shade of gray, and other observations that could assist her in a future life in science, or just a night of chucking rocks at things. She might also just drop the rock and grab a new one, or she might deposit it in the barrel I use as a vegetable planter in the backyard. If I’m close enough, one of her favorite rock activities is placing it in my hand. Besides being very cute, this action shows that she’s learning to share, to give something to another person for no other reason than to let him experience it, although she still has some learning to do because she usually immediately takes the rock back. She usually then gives the rock back to me, and we repeat this cycle until she loses interest in passing the rock, or until I lose interest in encouraging her. Then she’ll pick up another rock, realize that it isn’t dog food either, and continue playing merrily with her free rocks while my mind ponders fabulously important thoughts, like “’Katie Holmes’ can be rearranged to spell ‘Eskimo Lathe.’”
* We also have a backyard that could best be described “weeds being choked out by grass,” but we share the yard with others in our complex, so that’s not the previous resident’s fault.
posted by Matt at
9:29 PM
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