Peanut and I took a nice long walk on Saturday, and you know what they say about having kids? The old cliche about how you see the world in a different way again? It’s a common miracle many of us get to experience every day. As Peanut and I walked a simple stretch of about four blocks, we found entire worlds in between.
First, there was the choo-choo. We watched that and listened to its sound until it was out of sight, walking backwards at times. A little further down the road, we gawked at a burned-down house. Peanut was probably just wondering why that house looked so goofy. I wondered about our own home and all the tiny little belongings that we take for granted and where the inhabitants of that home found themselves that morning and what had to have been racing through their minds.
As we continued, the little ramps that slope from the sidewalk to the street were like mini hills for Peanut. Each time we approached one, we ran down it really fast and he giggled like it was the most comical thing. I suppose those little ramps are big hills for those tiny little legs.
Then, we went on a squirrel-watching hunt. There were two comical characters in a tree near the still-frozen lake, chasing each other. We sat watching those guys for a good five minutes until the crows called. We tried to imitate their sounds and follow their flight paths until we came across the playground.
After plenty of swinging, sliding, climbing, hiding, peeking, running across unstable bridges, and “driving” the fake truck, I finally had to tear Peanut away so we could head back home.
There’s just something about a quiet Sunday morning with very little traffic, light beams bending across the road, very little sound except for the birds, a tiny hand in your hand, the little bits of dirt decorating his knees, and those baby blues taking it all in. There’s nothing more sublime.