weed and pot

Yesterday one of my sweeties returned just before recess with two weeds in his hand. Socially, he's about five, not his actual age of nine, so I don't see him a lot because he goes somewhere else for much of the academic day. Anyway, he came up with these weeds and spent a long time deciding which one he was going to give me. When he made his selection, I expressed my gratitude and put it in a bottle of water. It reminded me of working in Group 1 at Kiddiepark, where the kinder girls would pick blades of grass and weeds all day long if you'd let them, and would present you with beautiful bouquets of "flowers" when they were done.

Before he left to give the other treasure to his other teacher, he said in his slow, clear and deliberate way, "I am going to take this other weed to Mrs. C now." He was perfectly aware that he had picked two weeds (by definition, "undesirable" or "troublesome" plants to others) but had no difficulty seeing the beauty in them, and their potential for making someone else happy.

No time to get deep here, but wouldn't it be great if we could regard more things in life the way Ian regarded his weeds? Sugarcoat less - spend more time noticing, appreciating, and sharing the value of what's already there.

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Last night I "made" dinner. I absolutely love that if I dish up something delicious that S. made two nights before, arrange it semi-artfully on a plate, whip up some homemade salad dressing, and bring it all to the table, S. thanks me for making dinner.

And the noodles were for my dinner - spaghetti with jar sauce, one of the greatest comfort foods of all time. Anyway, all the big pots were in the wash, so I had to keep flipping the noodles around till they were soft enough at the ends to bend into the little pot. I hate unevenly cooked pasta.

I still find choosing what you want to eat for dinner to be one of the most satisfactory things about being an adult. It's the simple things that make life great.