Laying In The Grass

While dinner was in the oven this evening, I took the kids outside to play. Christian was in his walker, so we started out racing up and down the brick walkway along the house. I would point Christian in one direction then run ahead of him while he chased me, yelling "I'm gonna git you mommy!"

After running back and forth for a while, I asked Christian what he wanted to do next. "I wanna walk on the grass." So we did. I pushed Christian around the yard, he hasn't mastered off-roading yet, and he screamed with delight. His next request was to go jump in the rocks, so I pushed him over to the driveway and we played in the pea gravel like it was an amusement park. Tessie was in a silly mood and lay down in the gravel to look at the clouds. I suggested that the grass might be a more comfortable spot, and decided that Christian should join her.

Christian has spent very little time playing outside on the ground. Whenever I have tried to sit him in a grassy spot he complains it's too pokey, mud is too messy, and rocks are ouchy. I want him to experience mud and dirt like all little boys. It has been hard for me that he doesn't want to get down and dirty. I think I made a big step in that direction today.

At first, when I laid Christian down in the grass, he started to squirm and complain. I laid down beside him and asked him to look at the sky. He quieted down and followed my gaze. I asked him what he saw and he started to name clouds, trees, and birds. Before long, Tessie joined us and we all started giggling and rolling around. I looked at Christian, laying in the grass, and I was so happy I could hardly stand it. He was loving it, pulling blades of grass to examine, watching the dog run by. He didn't want to come in for dinner, and that was the best part of all.

I am hoping that my love of laying in the grass has rubbed off on my son. I have visions of him playing outside until it's too dark to see, getting every outfit he owns covered in mud and grass stains, and building forts out of everything he can find. I can only cross my fingers that our beautiful evening in the grass will become a frequent happening, and that getting him to come in to dinner will be the hard part.