(If you just sang, "...filled with many colors..." then I love you just a little bit more!)
|Isn't our backyard the BEST?!|
What is it about a rainbow that instantly fills you with child-like excitement?
Last week, as I let Maddy out for her morning ritual, I glanced to the West and saw a HUGE, vibrant, double rainbow spanning the entire cornfield. It's rare to even see a rainbow, let alone both ends and then for it to be doubled. So what did I do? I raced inside, grabbed the camera, frantically looked around for the memory card to shove inside as I ran back out to our deck. The rainbow was already beginning to fade, and drops of rain were beginning to fall. I took a few quick pics and then ran to the master bathroom, where M was busy shaving for the morning.
"Look outside! Look outside!" I squealed as I tugged open the blinds in our bathroom. Of course, the rainbow was vanishing as we spoke so I shuffled him out to the deck where he could see it better. Just as we stepped outside, the tiniest bit of color faded from the rainbow and we were left looking at a cloudy sky.
I was so sad. I wanted to share "my rainbow" with him. It instantly occurred to me that this feeling was so child-like. When I see something new, exciting, or out of the ordinary, the first thing I want to do is share it with the people I love.
As the mother of a toddler, someone is always sharing his new discoveries with me. Leaves, stars, the moon, bugs, hairdryers, drumsticks, bird baths, worms, music, balls, and even movements like jumping, falling, climbing, swinging, pedaling, and rolling. At times, it's overwhelming for me to constantly listen to his tiny voice pointing out the everyday objects around us "Look Mama! A birdie! Look Mommy! A plane--way high!". But I'm trying to stop, to listen, and to share his excitement, by remembering that all of these little things are kind of like my rainbow.
"Listen earnestly to anything your children want to tell you, no matter what. If you don't listen eagerly to the little stuff when they are little, they won't tell you the big stuff when they are big. Because to them, all of it has always been big stuff." --Catherine M. Wallace