Perspective

O’s Wide Open

There are cheerios in various states of being scattered all over the floor. 

Ground into the rug, skidded across the tile, tucked underneath the sofa. 

No, I’m not describing my own home floors, though we do still find errant Cheerios from time to time.

The mini oat rounds I spy today are surface-decorating the service area of my local car dealership. 

A little toddler, whose peals of laughter were as prolific as his breakfast cereal distribution, has covered nearly every square inch of this place.  He has brought employees out of their offices, joy to the face of an elderly woman sitting solo, a smile to the gruff service advisor. 

He has also brought his mother continual and constant cardio.

She laughingly accused him of throwing the Os as a distraction so he could run the other way while she stooped to collect it.  She was laughing, but she wasn’t kidding.  He was a cunning little cutie. 

There is nothing quite so invigorating to a space and/or group of people as a small child.  

Except perhaps a puppy – which we also had at one point when a neighboring businessman brought one in.  I’m surprised emoji hearts and stars didn’t start exploding everywhere when the two met. 

What is it about young life that inspires camaraderie and conversation? 

Is it the lack of pretension?  Motive? 

Or are we the ones with motive? 

Eager to feed off that pure joy and enthusiasm for life.  In simple pleasures.  Living in the present moment. 

To ‘borrow’ that parent’s precious one for just one moment, one brief interaction, since we are so far removed from the sweet innocence they possess.

I’m sure the mom doesn’t feel the innocence every day.  She does not soak in the wonder. 

And I don’t say this as a criticism.  I say this as a lived-in fact. 

The relentless running after, keeping out of harm’s way, perpetual picking up after – floods our senses when caring for a young one is our reality. 

And I’m not becoming one of those old grocery store ladies who say, ‘savor it, it’ll be gone before you know it’. 

As I said, I’m still picking up the occasional Cheerio.  But I’m picking my little one up a lot less. 

I’m one of the ones who want to soak in the wonder and the up-turned eyes. 

And there’s nothing wrong with that. 

The service areas of our car dealerships – and our world in general – could use more of that. 

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Children, Literacy, Weekend Write-Off

On My Way to Buy Eggs

“May I go outside and play?” Shau-yu asks.
“I need you to go to the store first,” her father replies.

On My Way to Buy Eggs by Chih-Yuan Chen starts simply enough.  In this father-daughter exchange, it seems Shau-yu’s intentions for the day are reversed, but her trip to the store becomes the play, not a postponement of it.  She chases shadows, greets neighborhood animals, transforms found objects into treasures and the back alley ways of her surrounding area into magical places.  Imagination allows her to see her ordinary path in a new light – that and the discovery of a blue marble and lost pair of glasses.

The everyday nature of this story is where its power lies.  Not only does it showcase childlike wonder and the power of play, On My Way to Buy Eggs proves that life occurs in the small moments.  The true experiences occur in the in-between.

Shau-Yu returns home at the end of the book.  The two final pages of the book, a spread of illustration, show her playing in the background while her father prepares supper with the eggs in the foreground.  The wordless scene incorporates all the facets of her journey.  Whimsy and the necessary intersect.  Real life and the imaginary merge.

Children form identity through a sense of belonging, a place to call home, a combination of play, responsibility, and autonomy – all of which Shau-Yu encounters on her way to buy eggs.

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