October 16, 2001 - Tuesday
Sometimes Harry surprises me: today after we got home and Harry demanded to play outside (a common refrain), I expected to see him running off down the driveway or picking up rocks and sticks and banging them around like a good toddler boy will do. Instead, Harry found his bag of rocks and sat down in front of the garage. What's more, he told me to sit down with him and play with his rocks. For a tired old parent, that's an opportunity not to be missed so we sat there for perhaps five minutes holding rocks and talking about the geese in the sky and the crows in the trees. This lovely scene ended, of course, and Harry headed for the road. But, remarkably, rather than running up and down and back and forth in and out of the driveway, Harry and I went for a long leisurely walk up the street for the better part of twenty minutes. What tired old parent can hate that?


Comments, opinions?