Tuesday, August 17, 2010
This afternoon, I came home and opened the back door. Judy wanted to explore her own backyard. She quietly sat down and drank a glass of water. She walked around the porch. She brought her Mermaid Barbie out for a moment. At some point clothing became a nuisance, so Judy ran upstairs and stripped off her outfit of shorts and tank top and changed into her very soft pajama pants.
I turned on a children's music channel for ambient music. I began sauteing an onion for risotto. Judy insisted on stirring, regardless of my warnings about oil splatters. We stirred together. Judy washed a spatula. She washed it again. And again. Most of the washing was merely her running her hands back and forth underneath running water. I am sure it felt nice.
Judy returned outdoors. She ran through the grass in bare feet. She stood on top of her small sandbox lid and shouted, "Mama, I wanna sand." I lifted the lid and she dove right in. Her toes dug deep into the cool sand, and she buried her legs by scooping handful after handful of sand over them. Soon she filled a watering can with sand. She poured it out into the sand, watching all of the grains fall out and listening to the "shhhhhh" sound of the sand falling through the plastic sieve.
Judy soon perched herself on the large backyard swing. She poured sand out of the can and over her toes as she gently rocked back and forth. She turned to me and smiled. I cried.