growing up

Getting older with a small child in the house is like getting the chance to once again grow up, to explore the world and see the universe with eyes not affected by the life lived. Almost everyday I marvel at the marvel our baby is – as if it is second (if not first) nature for a child to take in the world and give back to it without seemingly any effort whatsoever. When did I grow out of this? When did I forget? Can I once more get back to that place of immediate connection with my surroundings, where very day is like a new life waiting for me to explore it?

My baby has an inner creativity that blossoms every day. He finds his grandmothers wallet, opens it and takes out her cards, lining them up beautifully in front of the window. He makes towers using his toy cars instead of the wooden blocks. He loves to be outside and he always finds new ways to climb the stairs, he happily stretches his hands towards the stars saying touch touch, and he gets so so happy every time we go to the beach that I believe it must be paradise for him. Last time he found a lot of dry reeds lying in the sand. Suddenly he started to collect them, putting them into the sand, creating a little structure right there in front of the sea; it was like the reeds were talking to him, playing with him, encouraging him to be creative.

This morning when I opened my eyes I had a little curious face looking straight at me from a few centimeters away. When my son saw that I was awake, he said brandbil brandbil (fire engine). Lately his life has been all about vehicles and these last few days fire engines has been really fascinating to him; he has made me repeat the name hundreds of times while we have been reading his books, but before this morning he did not say anything even resembling fire engine – how amazing to wake up one day and suddenly find yourself with new skills. And that, I have come to learn, is a lot what being a growing child is all about. I cannot wait to see what new things our son will teach us when we wake up tomorrow.

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