A three-year old boy can seldom be depended upon to be still and quiet. He can seldom wait until something will happen, but my grandson Thomas will watch carefully while life buzzes around him. He examines, analyzes, and finds it.
My "girls" (gr-daughters) were eleven and nine at the time, and he thought they were his, that they belonged to him. Between them, they filled our house with joy.
But, this day Thomas was mine to enjoy. And that was what we found across the street: amazement.
She wasn't home, but her hummingbirds were. Thomas squatted down quietly like a statue, wordless and eyes wide open. They were there, in their bold flight. Thomas held his hands folded in his lap, watching intently. And I watched him.
We didn't go back, why I don't know. Thomas wanted to see my friend who was gone for a few days. But the hummingbirds were there and we didn't go to see them.
Instead, Thomas ran and played with his cousins. They laughed, threw stuff, read books. I laughed, but I didn't throw stuff.
I watched them, my "girls" and my "little man". Good times.
For the next few postings, we will be heading back to the Cow Chipping Country to visit my brother. Please leave a comment, simply because I like to hear your thoughts.