Pretend you are a 16-month-old toddler.
Doesn’t this item look interesting?
All the pretty colors, and it’s up high. Ooohh—just out of reach.
But the lady sitting next to it is a stranger, and that means danger—proceed with caution.
Except the lady who owns that pretty thing up there is a mom of three sons, and worked for a long time in a daycare center, and really and truly knows the inner workings of a boy’s toddler mind.
This is what happened in the HCC cafeteria yesterday. I finished my Math problems in a record 45 minutes, and didn’t really want to be in the library looking for another source for my Composition paper. The paper ain’t due ‘til Tuesday, what’s the rush?
So I went to the cafeteria and pulled out my ever-present companion crochet supplies. I was making a bookmarker from itty-bitty granny squares, so easy and no pattern needed.
The little guy is the son of another student, and she brought him out from the daycare room to have lunch with her.
They were sitting at the next table, without a high chair.
No such thing at college.
Of course he’s at the moving stage, so he got down off his chair no problem. And that pretty thread up there was just calling out so loud that I could hear an echo.
He moved in closer, then backed off when I pulled off some more thread to do my work. This left a loop of string hanging down beside my chair. Now THAT was Fascinating. His mother cautioned him back, but I waved my hand in a sign of it being okay, no bother.
I pulled off about a yard so’s I could continue working, then snipped the thread, leaving the tail dangling in a most tantalizing fashion. What small hand could resist?
He came over and touched it, and when I did not push him away, he got bolder and tugged on it.
With only a slight nudge of help from me, the whole ball came tumbling down, hit the floor and began to unwind, since he was still holding the end.
I swear, this is better than watching my cats with a wad of aluminum foil.
He looked dumbfounded. How could this have happened?
His mother began to admonish him, saying to give it back, let the nice lady alone.
I told her that it’s quite all right. If I didn’t want him near then I would say so and take back the thread.
Besides, no one can resist those colors.
He chased down the ball and brought it back to me, offering it up so innocently.
Then he said, plain as you please, “Tie” and held up his arm. Even at that young age, he knows that string needs to have knots.
So I cut off about 10 inches and tied a nice bow around his wrist. He fingered the loops, but did not loosen it.
His mom said that it was time to go back to his room because she had to get to class. I was holding the ball of thread, and he reached out and touched the pretty colors with one hand and my wrist with his other and said “Bye.”
My heart just melted.
How much they know and can figure out at that age.
What joy can be had with string of many colors.
~~love and Huggs, Diane