We were slowly pulling away from dropping off a friend yesterday when W chirped from the backseat, “Mama! Bunny!” I slowed the car down even more and pulled over and we watched two bunnies play a game of leap the frog on a neighborhood sidewalk. W whispered, “take a picture” and I pulled out my phone from my bag and took a quick snap from across the street and put my phone away.
We then sat there watching them play for at least another five minutes. It was five minutes of together. Of watching. Enjoying. It wasn’t a complicated toy or game, there were no batteries or tickets of admission involved.
It was a nice reminder of how easy and honest companionship can be between a parent and their kid.
Earlier in the afternoon we had spent nearly two hours at a playground packed with kids, many friends of W’s. He played in a loop of glee from one end of the playground to the next, slowing down only when I called out for him to come take a sip of water. We were together, but we weren’t together.
Being quiet together after the loud and chaotic happy noise of the playground was like lifting the duvet into the air when you make a bed. The particles of whatever are set free and everything feels light and fresh and new.
I enjoy him, we enjoy each other.