Thursday, May 31, 2007

Pocket this

I remember the first time I actually found something in my son's pocket as I was doing the laundry. He wasn't yet three, and I was going through the motions of checking mine, my husband's and Logan's pockets, just in case. You've done it--washed a single tissue with your clothes & found a mess of white whisps on every item of clothes when you opened the lid to move the wet items into the dryer, right? Or accidentally washed something valuable like a cell phone? (I know at least one of you is in partnership with me on that one, I'm afraid).

So, I checked his little pocket and found a rock. He loved finding rocks at that time and still tends to--but he didn't seem all that discriminating as to their shape, size, color or make-up. I'm so selective--black, round, smooth--good for rubbing in the pocket--something like that. But for Logan a good chunk of gravel was as fine as a diamond. It was a chunk of gravel, not a diamond, that was tucked in that little pocket. I stood there holding it for a moment, thinking we'd just entered a new realm of his childhood. Before that I had often mused with other moms about the ridiculous "fashion" need for pockets on the outfits of 6-month-olds. What one year old is finding things to tuck into pockets? Why does an 18 month old need back pockets on his jeans? But suddenly, those little open patches had fulfilled their purpose--to hold found objects in his world of discovery.

My husband has the bad habit of forgetting to empty his pockets. Important phone numbers have been washed, dollar bills, and of course, as stated above, facial tissue. Whenever I find something in his pocket I am annoyed that he didn't fish it out preventatively; with my son, however, the items that fill his pockets now give me a little flavor of his day. I remember finding a "lucky" penny on the ground and slipping it to him. I find a leaf and a couple small twigs from our "nature walk." One of his shiny Hotwheels race cars is a common find. Rubber bands, acorns, a candy wrapper (where did that come from?)...

He is four now. He is growing up. So alert, always moving, curious about his world. I delight in his pockets, now. Soon, Teagan's will hold something too. But for now, let her wear her fashion.

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8
A Time for Everything
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

1 comment:

Jen S. said...

Yesterday Luke produced approximately eight good sized rocks from his pocket, and I had no recollection of him putting them there! I have yet to find something alive in his pockets, so that's a good thing. I'm not sure I'm ready for the day I find a wiggly caterpillar stowing away in his cargo shorts. :)