Sense of wonder

Summer’s here, and so is additional grandchild care. This is our eighth summer with grandson Noah spending much of the week in our home. It’s a special time. I try to get him to ‘work’ with me when I can. That way, at least, I get some projects done.

When Noah’s here, the schedule changes and our world, pretty much, revolves around him. He’s helped us on a laundry room painting project and some garage clean-up so far, but we’ve had lots of Dairy Queen visits and Grandma’s been throwing wiffle ball batting practice in the driveway. He can really pop the ball these days! He’s also the chief gatherer-of-cucumbers from our little front yard garden. Of course, he eats most of ‘em, too. Such a little man.

This summer, of course, I need to be working on my book project. Not so much with Noah around. I suspected that’s how it would be. Another disturbing postponement of serious, long-term project writing. Still, Noah is a glowing nine year-old who will pass this way but once. Before too long he’ll have a summer job and won’t need grandparents for babysitting anymore. While Grammy and I both need to work on our own stuff, postponing much for Noah is the stuff of memories. We’ll find a way to juggle what we need to do to make room for Noah in our summer lives. We both count ourselves mighty lucky for having him here. Fall and his return to all-day school will come too soon.

So much of what has become special for all three of us happens just because Noah spends days at a time at our homestead. True, he loves playing Age of Empires on his Mac -- my old one with limited computing ability. He likes the RC plane game on my iPod Touch, too, and watches lots of Spongebob Squarepants. He’s a techie kind of guy. We have to limit time spent gazing into screens.

Still, he’s very interested in much more. Not just the aforementioned cukes, but the momma robin who has built a nest just under the soffit on the back of our house. He checks on her daily. Of course, he’s often packing a plastic firearm at the same time, busy keeping us all safe from imaginary invaders.

I remember playing with pretend guns too, but my fondest memory of summers about his age was playing in the backyard dirt with my Tonka trucks. Oh, the lovely dirt roads and little cities that populated my yard and my mind. I don’t remember getting hammered with mosquito bites like Noah does, though. In any case, he isn’t piqued by earth moving in the same way, but he surely loves to put on his backpack and patrol the premises, military fashion. Such physical outdoor play seems to be seared into the boy’s imagination.

The real reason for today’s blog is this: The other day we had to stop by Noah’s house to pick up a school bag he needed for his special summer math program. As I waited in the car and let him enter his house like a big boy and get what he needed, and then lock up the place, I sat back and watched how responsibly he handled things. The front door lock is combination, so he put in his numbers and went on in.

When he was locking up, though, something very interesting happened. All was going as it should, but when he went to close the screen door, he noticed a moth caught between doors. He could have paid no attention, slammed the door and ran back to the car. But he didn’t. Instead, he looked up at the moth, left the screen door open, and waited for the little critter to flutter away. When it cleared, he closed the door, hustled over to the passenger seat, and we were off.

I was so proud of him and I told him so. His growing brain fires in response to so many things that make up his life experiences every day. Computer games. Disney Channel. Times tables. Reading. Cucumbers. Birds. Protecting us all from invaders. Still, he had the presence of mind to take time to respect one little life who had been caught up inadvertently in his actions.

As much as I think of myself and the birds in my backyard as Nature’s people, as Emily Dickinson coined the phrase, Noah has become one, too. It’s enough to make a grandpa proud.

Today’s elder idea: If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder...he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement, and mystery of the world we live in.

Rachel Carson

from The Sense of Wonder