walking softly

yesterday was one of those "extra soft" days.
you know the ones I mean, I'm sure.
everyone walks softly.
calm, quiet tones are used all day.
everything is slow, and easy.

a tone that was begun, no doubt, by my lying about on the couch with a wicked headache was carried throughout the day.

their daddy was home, so of course they played a while, too.

there was a few minutes of jumping.
a round or seven of tag - with giggles.

but the real news, for me, was Trevelyn's thoughts on the day.

several times yesterday, he appeared thoughtful and a little... off.
i don't think any of this came out of boredom, as I think Trev is like me, and is almost incapable of being bored.  if needing something, we'll just go find it, we are easily contented with small things.
it didn't come out of an excess of energy, either, as we were all satisfied to walk softly this day.

"If you were feeling better... we would be talking about a family bikeride." offered he.
and "Usually we'd be playing Qwirkle or something right about now."
and, later, last night... "If you didn't have a headache.... we'd be sitting outside at the table playing the Lewis and Clark game with Dad."
"We can play the game, Bud, if you want to," I told him.
"No, no, I'm happy to just lie here and watch Jake Long... I'm just thinking."

and he was.

it's not as if we rarely have quiet, drifting days - we have lots of them that look very similar to this one.
but for some reason, Little Son was in a pondering place today.

I think that he was thinking upon his life.
valuing his life.
maybe in these quiet moments there was a gift for Trevelyn -
an opportunity to contemplate and appreciate Life, and the love and joy and learning and adventuring within it.

mostly -especially when we're small and know no other way- we accept our world as is.  it doesn't necessarily seem fancy or extra fine or particularly dashing.  the living within it just Is.

as parents, we do things.
we drive them to a library twenty miles away to pick up Jurassic Park, because it will take four days (weekend) to get to the neighborhood library, and we know if we were really excited about something, we'd drive out post haste.
we say "of course" to cake for breakfast.
and an icecream cone right before lunch.
we spend eight dollars - when we only have seventeen - on a new dinosaur, just because it isn't expected, and he only wants to go to the toy store to look at it and touch it one more time.
we keep them home, with us.  because we can't bear be parted from them.
because we can't send them away, and just hope for the best.
and because it gives us so much joy to learn and laugh and play and discover with them Every Single Day.

and sometimes we wonder if we're doing it right...
and if the children are happy with their lives.
maybe it's been five minutes or so since someone sighed, and said "this is the life, isn't it?"  : )

and then...
and then, yesterday.
when you're not worried, and not expecting it.

your Little Son gives evidence that he's philosophizing, and evaluating.
and you just know that everything is beyond alright...
that everything is so fine, and good.

it is evident in his syrupy sweetness.
it's evident in the way he voluntarily (on his own) picks things up in the livingroom and puts them away.
it's evident in his volunteering to help his sister find her favorite videos on youtube.

it's seen and felt in the way he tucks us in with kisses and extra hugs, and says "I Love you, Maddie.  See you in the morning."

and you just know that your child has been thinking in the quiet,
and that everything is just as wonderful and right as you imagine it to be.