Dirt Hill

As a parent, I am constantly reminded of all the little things that make children happy.

Ice cream. Chocolate milk. Marshmallows. Merry go rounds. Swinging. Grass under toes. Wood chips. Music – no particular type, just music to move with. Reading the same book over and over and over again. Being outside. Being the leader. Walking. Running. Rocks. Bath time. Noises, lots of noises. Sirens. Firetrucks. Animals, absolutely any kind of animal. Climbing stairs. Friends – meeting another person their same size. Watching you make silly faces. Looking at themselves in the mirror.  High fives. Peek-a-boo. Tickles. Kisses. The list goes on and on.

Last night, James found a small incline of dirt that seemed in his mind to be a mountain that he was running down. He spent several minutes walking up and down this hill, smiling with accomplishment at the bottom. Some of my friends commented on how nice it is to be so intrigued with something that it brought you complete joy. That’s one of the many wonderful things about having children. It gives you a chance to see the world through a new perspective, through eyes that see everything as something extraordinary.

Like the rain today. James stands at the door licking the cold glass and watching the rain fall. His dirt hill is mud today, but that’s okay. He’d probably think that was amazing.

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