little man bringing up the rear

With our exquisite 70-degree days in the middle of November, we have been hoofing it every chance we get. To school, to the library, to tour the neighborhood. At the same time the weather turned warm again, Elliott decided that walking would be his only means of transport. No riding, no strolling and definitely no carrying. He wants to run and, more frequently, sit, lie down and stop to smell the dead flowers.

Like any good multitasker, taking a 40-minute stroll to pick up a book at the library that's six blocks away seriously tests my patience. And a 60-minute walk to school and back sets the whole day behind. However, the past two days I've made a conscious decision to walk at a snail's pace and figure out what my three year old sees that I just don't. Here's what I observed:

:: Life is an unending game of "I spy." We point out every item we can identify, "car!" "squirrel!" "tree!" "house!" "water!" Some of us do it unconsciously and some do it in full voice with great gusto. If we can't identify what we see, the less inhibited among us points and demands, "wha's dat?" "wha's dat?" "wha's dat?" And, yes, every tiny red thing hanging from the juniper is a berry.

:: Walking backward is similar to walking forward, just not quite as fast, which explains why it took us twice as long to walk home from the library.

:: Lying down in the middle of the sidewalk is the best way to view the airplanes.

:: Every bush deserves a pat or, if you are a special little person, has a fortune to tell.

:: Flowers are worth a sniff, dead or alive.

:: The berries in our neighborhood are edible. (I hope to God.)

:: Street is just another name for sidewalk and heaven forbid your hand gets held.

:: When you're tired, just sit down or do downward facing dog.

:: And when you're bringing up the rear and your mom is not giving you the attention you deserve, stop, pull down your pants, and call out in an ever-escalating tone, "uh-oh," "uh-oh!," "UH-OH!"

I think it's so funny how people will exclaim, "Oh, to be a kid again!" But, really, who would dare to? If I laid down in the middle of the sidewalk, ran my hands across the top of a bush like I was looking into a crystal ball and pulled my pants down to get attention, someone would have me committed. But walking with a three year old shows me that I don't need to become three again, I just need to live in the moment and let 10 minutes stretch out to 60 if that's how long my son needs to soak up the world. As much as I try to be youthful, I won't be sticking my face in a pot of dried-up mums. However, with Elliott for a guide, I just might leap into a leaf pile. You never know.