My evening walks with my daughter have become increasingly entertaining.
I suppose that happens as the 2-year-old quickly morphs into 2-and-a-half-year-old full of questions, opinions and songs.
One moment, Addy will break out into a version of a lullaby song, switch gears into a ditty about a monkey jumping on the bed and bumping its head and finish with asking, randomly, “where’s grandma?”
I have responses for each, although the most precious thing she does during her routine is ask “dada, you like that song?”
“Of course I do, sweetie.”
Then, as if sensing I am about to shower her with hugs and cupcakes, she’ll toss something out of her stroller during our 3-mile jaunts.
And she’s back to being 2.
Of course, 2 is 2 no matter where in the year it falls. But it certainly seems as though things have changed from last fall to this spring.
She’s talking nonstop now. That’s amusing just on its own.
The questions I get now from Addy, especially during our brisk walks, range from grandma queries to what I had for breakfast to the vague “what’s that?” complete with a point toward…well, something.
“That” is usually a motorcycle, loud car or other vehicle that has grabbed her attention.
Sometimes, “that” is a bird. Or a tree. I mean, she’s 2. I have to keep reminding myself that things are still brand new to her.
And that is usually the moment I have to stop and remind myself of what exactly it is she is taking in.
What an amazing experience it is to watch this all unfold in front of my daughter.
Bubbles are fun. Splashing in the puddles is a priority. And getting the paper from the driveway in the mornings is a must now on her routine.
I suppose we could all learn a lot by watching a 2-year-old for a while – about what is really important, what takes our breath away and how we socialize with others, animals and nature.
For example, before she goes to bed, Addy wants to kiss and hug the cats. Why? Because in her perfect world, that gesture means something to those cats. And who I am to say it doesn’t?
She’s my constant reminder that little things matter and my nonstop delight during our evening walks – and for that I am reminded how lucky I am.
John Beaudoin is the publisher of the Lee’s Summit Journal. To comment, call 816-282-7001 or e-mail firstname.lastname@example.org.