The road to the kindergarten takes 30 minutes. The road from the kindergarten to the house is an hour and a half. The route is the same, but here’s the speed … We are flying forward at the speed of mom. Busy, rushing, planning, optimizing. Running. There is no time for distractions, entertainment, conversations. Even for conversations. Because in order not only to hear the voice of a child in the morning bustle of a noisy city, but to make out what exactly the child said, you need to sit down, bend down to his level, listen. And this is a decrease in speed, loss of working time. I hold his hand tightly, because alone he will go much more slowly. And we’re flying. Sashka got used to his mother’s speed, got used to silently, without whims, running to the kindergarten. But he knows that everything is fair with us, and we will go back at Sasha’s speed.
At Sasha’s speed, that means looking at butterflies over dandelions, ants attacking a caterpillar on the sidewalk. Noticing the toadstools that suddenly grew on the city lawn. Kicking fallen and already rotten apples. Rolling into a thin dirty snowman the first snow. Looking at rare brands of cars in parking lots and much more that a child is able to notice, who is not dragged anywhere by the hand of his mother.
Once, when I came to the kindergarten for Sasha, I found him in the sandbox. He enthusiastically showed me a large stone, holding it with both hands.
— Mom, can you imagine, we dug, dug and found a treasure! Look what a treasure we dug!
I evaluate the find in my hands. Looks like more than a kilo…
— How healthy! Long dug?
— Yes! Indeed, so long!
Sashka, with a priceless trophy in his hands, walked briskly towards the teacher to ask for leave.
— Are you dragging this cobblestone home? she asked in bewilderment.
— Oh sure. How else? Not every day treasures are found.
And then Sasha finds a stick. A normal boy will not pass by such a stick. Long, thick, fits comfortably in the hand. Here’s the dilemma. The stone is too big to carry with one hand. And if you carry a stone with two hands, then there is nothing to hold a stick with. Sashka puts a stone at the side of the road and measures the depth of the puddle with a stick. Then he taps the metal fence with a stick. Then he jumps for several minutes, leaning on a stick.
Put down a stick, take a stone. Thoughtful face. As if listening to inner feelings. Did he play with a stick? Are you ready to break up with her? Not ready. Twirls the stone, attaches it somewhere under the armpit, holding it with the forearm. When Sashka bends down for the stick, the stone falls. After several attempts, Sasha still manages to pick up both a stone and a stick. True, the stick rests on clumsily splayed elbows, ready to slip to the side at any moment. I resist the temptation to help the child and carry the stone. This is his decision, his choice, his burden. Let him learn not to take on more than he can carry. I only support the stick when we cross the road so that the fallen stick does not create a difficult traffic situation. Sashka will definitely want to pick up a fallen stick, but with a stone in his hands this is not so easy to do …
And after the intersection, the right curb begins. The correct curb has the width of the width of the foot. The correct curb separates the sidewalk not from the roadway, but from the lawn, which means that it is safe to walk on it. The right curb seductively rises above the level of the sidewalk. The next 200 m of our route to Sasha’s house always goes along the curb. And not only Sasha. Since childhood, I also like to walk along the right curbs. When you follow your child along the curb, it is much easier to move at his speed.
And then Sasha notices the pigeons. They bathe in the fountain by the restaurant. Sasha lowers a stone with a stick to the ground. And ironically remarks: “The builders thought they were building a fountain, but it turned out to be a bath for pigeons!” And then enthusiastically: “Look, these pigeons are so funny!” I’m trying to understand what funny Sashka saw in those pigeons. «Funny pigeons» are grown chicks. Slightly smaller than adult birds, more fussy, with skinny necks. I explain to Sasha that these are no longer chicks, but not yet adult birds. «BUT! I understand! They are like Arseny!” — Sasha remarked brilliantly. Well, yes, teenage birds. And I note with pleasure the presence of an analogy in Sashkin’s thinking.
We bring home trophies: a cobblestone and a stick. The journey home this time took one hour and forty minutes. But this is a valuable time that I lived at the speed of a child. Living at the speed of a child means having time to notice the color of the sky, the smells of the streets and your own emotions. Have time to be surprised and enjoy simple things. To have time to realize that Life is beautiful.
PS Sasha was delighted when he saw his mother taking pictures of his «golden» stone. By the way, the stone has been “living” with us for six months. And this is far from the only stone decorating the interior on Sasha’s initiative.
«And now I’m going to take pictures!» — the young photo artist Sasha took my camera away from me and took a few pictures, having previously made creative corrections to the composition. And later he insisted that his picture also graced the article. Actually, here, I am fulfilling the will of my youngest son 🙂