Andrew will be two years old in a few weeks. Growing like a weed, that boy is. He wants to be outside all the time. He’s not interested in what is indoors.
I suppose little boys just want to be out in the sunshine discovering the world.
For a moment or two, he will walk. But then he will start running and his mother gives chase.
I’m in the boot and sidelined.
I sat on a wooden bench at the park and watched as first he went one way, and then for some unknown reason only he was privy to, he’d turn around and head out in the other direction.
Eventually they both were just red and blue dots in the distance.
I showed Andrew what a cabbage looks like. He was not remotely interested.
“Swing, Mama.” He looks at me with my camera as though I am some form of alien.
I showed him the trees budding out, meaning spring is on its way. He couldn’t have cared less.
And he’s off again. Staring at something in the distance. I wonder what it is? I wonder if he knows what he’s running toward?
There’s my happy little man. All smiles. Running. Just running for the heck of it.
Because that’s what little boys do.