Leaf it Alone.
As my 10 month old makes his way to pick up the dried brown leaf from the concrete, I immediately hear my own voices in my head. Those crazy parenting voices and fears that I hear on a daily basis…
“No, put it down. You just got a bath. That’s dirty, and I’m going to have to wash you again. Ugh, I hope there’s no bugs on it.”
But I pause for a moment. I stop those controlling and irrational thoughts from moving from my mind to frantically pouring off of my lips. And I sit silently, to observe.
He picked up the leaf.
“He simply picked up a leaf. It’s a leaf, and he is interested in it.”
The other part of my fear stems from the fact that recently, he want’s to eat or taste basically anything in sight. Something new… he grabs to see… then straight to his mouth. Something shiny… he wants to see… then straight to his mouth. So as I’m still fighting the urge to get up and grab the leaf from his hand, I don’t. And I stay seated, with a slight eye on him as I get back to my work at hand.
Back to work. Back to business… But then, I hear it again...
“He’s going to eat it. I know he’s going to try to eat it. I need to get up and grab it before he eats it.”
Deep breath, Erica. Deep Breath. I imagine that I know he’s wants to eat it, but then I have to think again to myself…
“Do I really know he will eat it? Am I just assuming he is going to eat it, because he’s tried to eat so many other things that he shouldn’t before? Can I really know, for sure, that he wants a taste of that brown papery leaf?”
Then slowly, he lifts the leaf off of the ground. In a crawling position, holding the leaf, he pulls his hand a bit closer to his face, with his opposite hand being his main point of balance as he focuses intently on the new object he is interested in exploring.
“Ah… he’s going to eat it,” I think to myself. I start to fidget in my chair and fight the urge to get up once again… but catch myself. I think rationally. “He hasn’t eaten it yet. He’s just looking at it. Maybe he knows it’s not food?”
So I remain seated, and calmly watch as he presses his fingertips together, building a tighter grip on the leaf, as a few pieces crumble to the ground.
And that’s when it hit me... I’m not always going to be around to watch him. I won’t be there in every moment of his life to tell him “Don’t eat that!” And I shouldn’t be stopping him from eating the leaf when he hasn’t made an actual attempt to eat the leaf.
His mouth is closed, and his eyes are focused on the new crisp brown texture that he has discovered.
He loosens his fingertips a bit, as to notice the texture of the leaf, but not release it from his grasp. A few more pieces crumble to the ground. Then he slides his thumb in the opposite direction of his other four fingers and releases the last bit of crumbled leaf from his slightly muggy grip. He lowers his hand to the ground, and then crawls off with his eyes in search of new unknown discoveries that lay before him.
And as he crawls off… I watch the now crumbled pieces of the dried brown leaf drift off with the wind... along with my fears, along with my unspoken demands and un-acted automatic impulses.
Until the next time… he discovers something new.
[This is what I deal with on a consistent basis... fighting my automatic responses , and learning to be present to moments as they reveal themselves.
As I fought with my inner thoughts, while my son explored the leaf… I reflected on his Daddy’s example a few afternoons ago. Our son, Kioni, was trying to reach a pen off the kitchen table. Instead of removing the pen from the table, as my reaction wanted to do, his Daddy left it there. He gave him a warning signal each time he reached for it, but then left it there. As I fidgeted to walk over and grab the pen, he reassured me... “Leave it there. We are not always going to be there to tell him no, he has to learn that some thing’s are not for him, and taking it away won’t teach him that.” The pen stayed, and eventually Kioni moved on.
Knowing what possibilities may arise in a situation, and knowing when my interference is vital and necessary is the key. Truth is, I won’t be around him in every second of his life to watch what he does, and if I did stop him from grabbing the leaf and exploring it… When would he have had the chance to learn what a leaf was?
I have to fight my automatic imposed parenting impulses, and let the learning aware parent inside of me decide how to react in every situation. It’s not an easy feat, but I know it’s the best that I can be for my son.]
