It was a particularly awful commute home yesterday, so once we all made it out of the car and breathed the fresh air of the suburbs, I let Jackson take his time making his way to the front door. These days, walking 3 feet outside can take 45 minutes. It entails observing everything possible, from ants and helicopters in the sky, to discarded gum that he is fascinated with. Add a few pleasantries with neighbors, and that ends our evening. But I love it.
I love this age, because he really does recognize everything I take for granted. I feel like jackson doesn't skip a beat. On our way inside, he stepped over a crack in the sidewalk and something caught his eye. It was a beetle scurrying around (I am completely freaked out by beetles. Give me a snake, igauna, black bear, tarantula ANYDAY, but spare me the beetle - they are just creepy to me.) Jackson adored this beetle (or so I thought). He stood over it, saying "that? Mommy . . that?" and just watched it move in awe. I never would have seen the darn thing. So, I let him spend quite a long time observing the beetle and bonding with it. So much for that. In a flash before my eyes, before i could even realize it was coming, Jackson stomped that beetle so hard it crunched under his foot.
OH GOD!? Do I talk about death? Will he wonder why it's not moving? Does he know he just made beetle juice all over the sidewalk? I stuttered something about how he needs to be kind and gentle to living things. Here I was, terrified and phobic of beetles . . . in my heart I wanted to throw a party for the one less beetle in the world. But, instead, I uttered a peace offering and hoped he made it to be reincarnated into a fluffy dog or something. I actually felt a tinge of saddness for the crunched beetle. Did it have a mommy nearby?
After a second of seeing that it wasn't moving anymore, he found a new interest and was off in a flash. No "heaven" conversation needed. Good - he's way to young and I'm just not ready for that yet anyway.
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