​Lessons from the Floor

Life looks different sitting on the floor with an eleven month old.

I spent a day with our grandson last week. We camped out together on the playroom floor, surrounded by colorful toys that beep and honk. We pushed little cars and made “Brrrm, brrm” noises together as the vehicles rolled across the mat.

I am unashamedly biased and in love with this little man. Grandma’s prerogative, I believe.

First, we read books, which, in and of itself is a great way to learn and grow. But this wasn’t an ordinary reading experience. I turned the pages and spoke the words while he listened intently, pointing and touching. Then he took a turn flipping pages and “telling” the story – “ooaa oooh yaa eeahwa aaath aaowa.” Pat the Bunny never sounded better.

Grayson turned the book upside down, started at the end, flipped to the middle and held it sideways, checking it out from every angle. Note to self: Sometimes a change in perspective changes everything.

So much interests this little boy, from the tiniest thread to tags on blankets; from new tastes and textures to sounds and sights. The world is fresh and ripe for exploration and chewing on. Note to self: Engage all senses.

We also played, “stick the soother in Grandma’s mouth, watch her pop it out, pick it up and repeat,” endlessly. And each ejection of the pacifier resulted in full-body, belly laughing. He displayed such joy and unchecked laughter. Note to self: Be free to laugh spontaneously and often and even at silly things. And later, call to mind the laughter and let it bring a smile. No one needs to know why I’m grinning.

Grayson and I also spent time on the weekend by my garden box of arugula. He tentatively pulled a leaf off the salad plant and, of course, put it in his mouth. His scrunched up face and speedy removal of the greens tells me it wasn’t a hit. Note to self: It’s okay to try new things and not like them.

In a world fraught with natural disasters and unspeakable atrocities our little grandson brings light and hope and perhaps the most important note to self of all. When I walk into the room and we make eye contact, he bursts into a smile and throws his arms toward me. We hug and snuggle as be burrows his face under my chin and I whisper, “Hello, sweet boy. I love you.”

And I am reminded that while I can do little to help the masses, I can make a difference in one life at a time.
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With love and gratitude,
Shelaine