Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Harper tells a story to a boy at the park and he does not care
Harper found a big kid basketball at the park last week and headed over to the half court to have a go at it. Mostly she had trouble concentrating because I put Hudson down and she was convinced he was trying to steal the ball from her even when he was toddling in the opposite direction. "He might get HURT," she explained with false benevolence, to justify her hoarding. Just then, a group of three boys wandered over. I know one of them. He is seven and has a really nice nanny and two younger sisters. He grabbed the ball when Harper put it down and I asked if it was his. He conceded it was not, so I told him they could all play with it, but that they would have to share. They did an okay job for a few minutes but Harper's turns were becoming increasingly shorter so she wandered off and left them to their Big Boy game. She stood at the edge of the court and was jumping up and down making this grunting noise while waving her arms above her head. I inquired. "I'm trying to get the moon, Mommy!" I looked up and sure enough, there it was. She was getting a fair amount of air (let's say 3 inches) and her little face was so resolute, her little voice so strong ("Come HERE, Moon! I'm TRYING to GET you!) that I do believe that she really believed that if she just kept trying, that moon would indeed be gotten. Just then one of the boys, who looked to be about four, but was probably older because he was wearing those shoes with the wheels in them, wheeled close by. Harper, mistaking his proximity for interest, (a common problem, I am afraid, among girls and boys) began to explain her efforts. "We have a story! About Little Bear!" and with that, he wheeled away. She let her story trail off and went back to jumping. She didn't seem bothered. I, however, felt as though someone had shoveled out my stomach. It's not like I expected the kid to stop the basketball game and gather his friends around in a listening circle, I just thought that he probably should. So I went over and let her tell me and Hudson all about Little Bear and his space helmet. Here she is having a picnic with her puppy Joshua, who listens to every word of every story.
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3 comments:
Elizabeth passionately plays Dora roles at the park. She insists on it, even with other kids. So one day she was chasing some older girls and calling them Dora characters when she stopped and called out, "Hey you guys, I'm tired of chasing you so I'm going to take a rest." Whew, I thought. At least she didn't let them run her down. Watching what could be a terrible, hurtful experience is one of the toughest parts of this job. I'm glad Harper was able to tell you her story.
By the way, I never commented on it but I really liked reading about the little bird on the balcony.
I meant to post an update on the bird and forgot! It actually, in a weird way, has a little something in common with this post. We went to the park later that afternoon and when we got home the little bird was gone from the patio. I feared the worst and went out to take a careful look and there he was--safely tucked away in a bush just above the tricycle seat on the other side of the brick wall. I honestly have no idea how it happened but I suspect the mother rigged something up to rescue him. He stayed tucked in there, quiet and still for another day while she brought him food every 20 minutes or so, and then, the next morning after, he was gone. I think learning to fly must be a really quick process. The metaphors are just endless, aren't they?
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