A few days ago, Grace ran in the house, two steps ahead of Joe, both of them breathless.
Come see! Come see!
“Come see what, guys?” I asked, slightly irked that they were taking me away from the important task at hand.
There’s a big mess in my house!
“There’s a big mess in your house? How did your house get a big mess in it?”
A bird put it there!
“Why did a bird put a big mess in your house?”
It was making a nest! In my house!
“It made a nest in your house? Can I see it?”
Yes! Come see!
All three of us headed out to the playhouse that Pappy gave Grace for her second birthday.
As I approached the playhouse, Grace pointed out the bird’s nest –
– and the big mess.
We looked the next over in all of its messy glory. I thought it was pretty neat; the kind of thing I hope to see every year.
Because the nest was in her playhouse, I explained to Grace that she had two options: leave the nest in her house where it would eventually house baby birds (and make a bigger mess) or have Daddy take the nest down.
She thought about it for a long time.
A long time for my 3-year-old is about ten minutes.
Take it down, she finally said, resolute.
“Are you sure? You want Daddy to take the nest down?”
Yes. Take it down.
“We won’t get to see any baby birds if we take it down.”
It’s okay. Take it down.
I was a little sad. I wanted to keep the bird nest, but it wasn’t my decision. It’s not my playhouse.
Joe carefully took the nest out of the playhouse.
Since it stayed in tact, all three of us walked the nest to a big bush in our yard. We wedged the nest into the crook of a branch in the bush, uncertain whether any bird would decide to roost there. Time will tell.
My child thought a tidy playhouse was more important than watching baby birds grow up?
How did that happen?
When did that happen?
The whole incident, cute as it was, made me think about the person that Grace is becoming. She’s turning three in two weeks.
Every birthday so far has left me a pile of mush, and this one is no different.
Since she was tiny, I have really enjoyed the fact that Grace is like my clone.
Now, at three, she’s becoming an individual. Her own person.
She’s so much like me, but she’s so very different.
Her own person.
I’m not ready for this.
© 2010 – 2018, Tara Ziegmont. All rights reserved.