“Mommy, a dandelion!” Camilo’s eyes search the scene to find me. He’s standing there with crocs on the wrong feet in weeds that rise to his hips. Just in front of him is the wonder causing the shift, a single yellow dandelion. His excitement is contagious and I am pleased to see my boy taking wonder in the world. I know that his shouting was just for me. A simple moment he gets to share with me. We get to be joyful together gazing upon a plant that we may see in another 10 feet.
The park we stand in isn’t world renowned. It isn’t even maintained. The dandelions and small white flowers dress the park with beauty that suppresses the filthy trash,broken glass bottles, and piles of dog poop below. The exercise equipment is painted blue and white to blend in, but remains in worthless scattered pieces. The power poles lay in the left corner of the patchy soccer field with no illuminating hopes. This park isn’t much, but it’s our stomping grounds.
My boys and I pass hours and hours every week in that park. There is always something new. Neighbors pass and look at me in horror as the baby grabs a clump of dirt. Others stop just to ask what we are looking for as we dig in the mud with sticks. And that’s just the beauty of it, we aren’t looking for anything. We don’t have an agenda. But we are always pleased at what we find. Worms the length of a finger nail slinking around, rollie-pollies wandering their streets, ants hauling food to their homes, and tiny seeds to keep the birds entertained.
Rather than into the accepted notion of sending my three year old to school, I keep him at the park. As a mom, I´m focusing more on the how than the what. How do we learn gentleness and respect? How do we learn to pace ourselves and forgive? For my boy, it´s all through living it…outside.The learning happens as my boy handles plants and counts leaves. We call it concentration skills when we listen to the woodpecker and search until we can find it snuzzled up in the tree. It´s hand-eye coordination when he uses a stick to flick a dangling leaf. We explore in the grass under the sun. We wander in dirt under the shade of the incredible trees.
Behavior seems a forgotten idea out here. The need for correction is so slim. There are no off-limits as long as we are together.
Although we’d welcome friends, we’re always alone. No kids come to play, just women passing through with their grocery bags full. It’s just us and the street dogs and the ant hills and the buzzing mosquitoes and nests in the trees. It’s just the place for a young boy to marvel at a dandelion.
If he can marvel over a dandelion in a field of wild-flowers then his joy will never end. My kids don´t need more. They don´t need a perfect park or pretty paths. They need to be content in the marvels that are right there. I hope to never take the amazement out of the mundane.
