The little things

Ah, a blank piece of paper (or big, white screen). So refreshing. An endless space to record my thoughts. While I could get as deep as the ocean with those thoughts, I won't. I'll keep it simple. Sometimes simple is best. In the life of a mommy, sometimes simple is definitely best. For instance, a lot of money and time is spent on buying your baby that perfect toy when (as we've all heard), he'd rather play with the box it came in. Tearing paper nice and slow and then speeding up at the end triggers the deepest belly laughs from Baby Boy's mouth...not my attempt at funny faces or silly voices...the tearing of paper. The shampoo bottle makes a better boat than the actual red and blue toy boat. Pushing the trashcan lid around the kitchen is better than the magnetic, musical toys that have become lonely stuck to the fridge. My keys are SO much better than the three fake sets that belong to Baby Boy (they even make clinky noises). Making the kitchen blinds rattle is more entertaining than any goofy dance I can perform while preparing Baby Boy's breakfast. Splashing sink water is more fun than playing in the little pool we just bought and chewing on books is better than reading them. It's the simple things.

And today he discovered one of the simplest pasttimes I could have ever thought to offer him -crawling up and down the walkway between our front lawn and our front door. It was after his afternoon nap and before dinner time that Baby Boy started to get antsy (as he often does around this time). So, I took him outside, thinking I'd show him the pinecones from our pine tree (yes, suprisingly, pine trees can survive in Phoenix...somehow...) or flowers from my potted plants or blades of grass. No interest, none at all. He wanted to play with the rocks. He banged them together, rubbed them in the dirt, tried putting them in his mouth. And then he crawled. He crawled toward the front door, and I followed. He crawled back, I followed. I just sat in awe as he crawled back and forth, caring nothing about the hard cement on his knees. He smacks his hands, pitter-patter, pitter-patter, as he goes. So precious. There is nothing cuter, and there is no better reminder to appreciate the small things. The simple things...