This morning, he says:
What’s happening in here? Mommy carry you to see the sound.
I say:
What do you mean? What sound?
He says:
You can feel it in your bones.
***
Tonight he says:
What is that sound in your ear?
Scott and I say:
What sound? What do you hear? It’s quiet in the room right now. Do you mean the sound outside? A car going by? An airplane?
He says:
Want to go outside and see the sound. Put on your pants and shoes and go outside.
At first, I say no. It’s so close to bedtime. But then I realize, why not? I put my shoes on, carry him — in his PJs and socks — outside. We hear an airplane, and we can see it. We hear a helicopter but we can’t see that.
We pick one of the last figs of the season off the tree. The skin is thick and bitter but the inside is soft, red, and sweet. Jonah and I share it.
He says:
You share the fig with Mo-meeee.
and why not go outside? why not listen to what he hears? why not? so so beautiful.
krista’s last blog post..tuesday evening, apples and cheese
Sometimes I have to make myself stop and do the things that i may at first say no to. They always end up being the most treasured memories
kbreints’s last blog post..The ‘all knowing’ mother
Ditto what kbreints said. I have to remember do that more often. Thanks for the reminder.
And love that Jonah calls himself “you.”
oh, the fig line! your writing, julie: better and better.
the kid’s kinda cute too. 😉
Oh, lovely! I’m always being surprised by how much more aware my child is than I am, and how enchanted by the ordinary world.