If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in.” —Rachel Carson (1907-1964), Marine Biologist
My eighty-eight year old neighbor, Bob, loves to visit with my children. He calls Maddi his little honey and Jordan his buddy. The other day he asked Jordan, “Are you tough?”
With his precocious smile, Jordan said, “Yes. I’m four-and-a-half tough.”
My son is fascinated by age lately, constantly asking how old I am. I’m sure thirty-five sounds amazingly intriguing next to the numbers three and four.
My kids went fishing yesterday with our new friend Kayla and her fiancé, P.J. They had many energetic stories to tell me about the four fish they caught during their outing. Maddi exclaimed they caught a starfish (translation: sunfish). And Jordan informed me that they caught a bullhead that looked like a catfish, but they didn’t catch any dog-fish!
I love the wonder of being three. I love the joy of being four and a half. I am rediscovering life even at thirty-five. Especially at thirty-five. The nice thing about discovery is that it doesn't limit itself by age.
