kerplopping

Today Ace and Zee's PaPa (grandpa) stopped by for a visit. When he walked in Zee excitedly said, "HEY, I know you! You're that birthday boy from the party last night!" You see, yesterday we celebrated PaPa's birthday with a sushi lunch followed by cupcakes and playing at a park. It was obviously memorable, and Zee had so much fun he gave himself a nap afterward.

It was also a little nerve-racking leading up to the sushi lunch because Zee is fully in the we-can't-take-him-to-a-restaurant phase, but after moving from Oregon to Missouri our sushi cravings won out. And besides, we would have grandparent reinforcements. Zee snuck a few toy vehicles in his pockets after I denied him bringing his entire race track saying, "If it can't fit in your pocket, you can't bring it." I have to remember he is also now in the everything-is-literal phase. Before the food arrived these were a welcomed distraction, but once the Rainbow Roll became Dusty Crophopper's landing strip we had to shift gears. By nature of proximity, PaPa and Daddy tensed to run interference, but it was actually Zee who saved the day. He rose up on his knees and proclaimed, "Hey guys, let's play I Spy. I'm first. I spy with my little eye..." The game lasted throughout the meal and we were able to be real adults at a restaurant (this is a big deal)!

All peaceful interludes with a 3-year-old have their limits, so we moved to a park for cupcake dessert and presents knowing the fresh air and playground equipment would keep the celebration from a pre-school meltdown catastrophe. What I didn't expect was how the tiny riverfront rock and sand beach would double the number of kids I had from two to four. 

Daddy and PaPa led Ace and Zee in skipping rock hunts, exaggerated skip counts, and hand-raising exclamations at gigantic rock "kerplop" splashing in the river. The adult enthusiasm invigorated the "kids". It was an amazing reminder of how our children can learn about joy when we share in creating it, and that it doesn't take anything fancy to have wildly imaginative fun.

Our park adventure continued on the playground with swings and seesaws and jungle-gym climbing, and on the park trails with red light-green light and nature explorations. But away from the river's edge, we were adults again, admiring two kids at play. Beyond the physical reminders of our age-my husband's nagging rotator cuff, PaPa's sore knees, and my inability to swing without getting seasick-I'm not sure what causes this inner-age transformation. Can we not see ourselves as kids when the play equipment is so small in scale? Are the hyperawareness demands of strangers and road traffic and general parenting too much to share space with our kid-selves? Is it something about the nature of nature that lets us let go? 

It's not that I don't experience incredible joy and happiness being an adult alongside my kids (having lunch at a restaurant was awesome), it's just that I'd like to recreate the skipping rocks and kerplopping phenomenon as often as possible.  Of course, parent planning may help prevent disaster, but it probably doesn't manufacture parental zen. So maybe all I can do is enjoy those moments when they happen, and look forward to constantly being surprised.

©Erin Croley