It's 9 a.m., let the games begin. Life to an eighteen month old is one game after
another. The only exception is milk and breakfast. My little guy is serious about
both. The rest of the day, however, is all games. Need examples? I have plenty.
This morning, for instance, I was trying to clip his toenails, and the game was
how to move in such a way as to make mom's face contort due to the effort being
put forth in keeping the foot and toes still enough to do the job. This was all
with dad's help. He was holding both legs and the involved foot, while I was holding
the involved foot as well, and holding each individual toe. Being nearly completely
immobilized and losing the game, my son decided to improvise on the rules and used
his shoe to repeatedly hit me on the head. Wow, yeah, that got a great reaction, I
should do this more. How funny, he must have been thinking.
The next game was to see how many times he could run away from me, tearing into
places he knew he wasn't suppose to be in, such as my closet, the bathroom, the
pantry... . Yes, the list goes on, and my little guy knows to end to the, "I know I'm
suppose to do this, and I don't know why, but it's just so fun," way of thinking. I often
wonder, what goes on in a toddler's brain? How does he make connections, a
pathway of thought from one thing to another? How does a toddler see the world,
experiences seemingly so limited to us (playtime, food time, bedtime over and over),
but yet so expansive for him?
I love that children, young children especially, learn best through playing, through
the interaction back and forth with those around them. Allowing them to explore
their environment (provided it's safe, the toilet bowl not being included in what's
"safe"), is a great way to encourage their curiosity and feed the imagination. Life to
an eighteen month old is a game. What a fun world that must be. I hope that, through
my writing, I am able to nurture the creativity of the children and allow their
imaginations to be limitless as they consider the world around them.
Just incase you're wondering why I don't want my children in my closet, I have a
basket in there that holds my dirty hospital scrubs, and I wash them separately from
my other laundry. I'm not too super strict. I promise. :)