reaching for the sky

With the exception of the two weeks when my husband was home on paternity leave, I have been walking Bug to School every weekday for almost three months now.  Our morning walk has been a bright spot in my day since . .  .

we finally got over the hump of the you-have-to-hold-an-adult's-hand-while-you-are-on-the-sidewalk learning curve.  (Picture a woman who is thirty-nine weeks pregnant with what will be a ten pound baby holding the hand of a two-year-old who protests the holding-hands-rule by either sitting or - more often - lying down on the sidewalk.  The woman silently refuses to engage with her toddler during his tantrum, but she also refuses to let go of his little hand, hoping to teach the rule with her actions rather than with her words.  She does this all while trying not to lose her balance and topple onto her son - which would cause serious injury to both the thirty-nine week pregnant woman and her little toddler.  I was that woman.  The good news is my Bug is a quick learner.)

During these walks, we sometimes sing songs (The Ants Go Marching is a big favorite) or talk about what Bug's day will be like at school.  

Lately, and much to my delight, Bug does most of the talking.  

Today we walked past an FDNY "communications truck" - whatever that is, and the Bug was ecstatic.  "Fire truck!"  "Oh wow!"  "Fire truck!"

One morning, Bug told me he wanted to fly a kite.  Then he pointed in the sky and told me he saw a kite [an imaginary kite]. I asked what color it was.  "Pink!"  Any other colors?  "Blue!"  Polka-dotted or striped?  "Stripes!"

My favorite moment so far happened a few weeks ago when the Bug told me he wanted to touch the sky.  As an adult, you can go one of two ways when a child expresses an interest in touching the sky.  I chose the one that wouldn't crush his spirit.  And so he gave it a try.