walking with abigail

Today Abigail and I went to the library after I finished teaching--she absolutely adores the puzzles and requests fervently that we stop there whenever possible so we can work our way through their stash. Anyway, I was flipping through a parenting book while I waited for her to finish selecting the puzzles she wanted to do today, and I came across one entry that really made me think.

It was talking about dealing with the frustration of having a toddler who is verrrry slow at doing everything, and strategies for coping with such frustrations. I thought there were some really good tips in there, but the best one, I thought, was simply realizing that such slowness is a part of having a small person who is just seeing everything for the first time.

I'll be the first to admit that Abigail's slowness about some things is often frustrating for me--breakfast is my Waterloo, especially when she decides to name all the foods on her plate (not with their actual names, but with names she makes up). Or when she tells me a story like the one she told at dinner last night when her fork fell to the floor, which went something like "Uh-oh! Fork fell off plate to floor! Mommy fell off chair to floor. Toes fell off feet. Abigail fell off table. Flowers fell off plants. Fork fell off plate to floor." ??

But I also really treasure her slowness, because it makes me see things in a much more appreciative light and notice all the tiny little things that I would ignore as I speed-walk on by. For instance, every day that we park at the library and walk the three blocks to my office on campus. It takes us about ten or fifteen minutes, and I truly cherish those ten minutes, because we have our little routine of "fun things"--we say good-bye to the parking garage, stop to check on the construction on the corner, say good-morning to the flowers in front of Einstein Bagels and hello to the people eating their breakfasts on the patio. Then we meander slowly across the liquor store parking lot (classy, I know) and stop to jump off the "hump" off the handicapped ramp, carefully examine the handicapped signs and talk about being nice to people "whose yegs dey hurt, we open doors," mosey along to the edge of the parking lot and express our joy that the trees are still there, just like yesterday. Next we cross the street "weelly fast, Mommy! Cars on street!" to the firehouse, walk along past a fraternity house and stop to look at the Kappa Alpha Sigma signs embedded in the sidewalk ("Look, Mommy! Letters!"), walk past the "yiddle trees wif birdies, Mommy! Dey sing songs!" step "keewfuly, Mommy" over the broken places in the sidewalk, cross the street again to campus, and spend several fascinated minutes peering down into the basement windows of the Union Club Hotel at the people folding sheets and towels. Abigail waves good-morning to the "wandwy" workers and we cross the plaza to the humanities building, where we count the stairs up to my classroom ("one, two, four, five, one, two, four, five, one, two, four, five") and meet Neil. On the way back, we walk on the other side of the street where there are even more letters in the sidewalk, which we jump up and down on while we say the letters, then we carefully walk on the "baby sidewalk" (Abigail's term for the smaller cement slabs cut to fit) and run down the swirly ramp into the library, where Abigail gleefully exclaims "liberry, Mommy! Les do peezzles!" And so we do.

I love seeing how interested she is in everything around her, and how she loves to see familiar things and people and places. I get just as excited as she does when she recognizes the library or the grocery store or one of her friends, because I'm totally awestruck by watching her little mind unfold. It never ceases to amaze me as I watch her developing into this entire little person and realize what a miracle children truly are, and it really deepens my testimony and faith in God as I marvel about how perfectly the human body and mind grow and develop.

And speaking of development, Abigail is now firmly convinced that she can spell her own name. If only Mommy and Daddy had realized that it was spelled "A, b, i, j, m, s, t, z, y, s, t, m, y, s, t, a, l!"