Sand and Toes and Beetles

Recently, I spent the week with our 18 month old grandson, Archie at our lake house where there’s lots of sand and water, and sandy water. It was the first time since last summer that Archie experienced the lake; and as expected, he needed a bit of reorientation. Last year, Archie hung out on the deck with infant toys. Now, he’s evolved from a sedentary deck observer to a full blown ambulatory discoverer.

During this first return trip to the lake, we took it slow. At first, Archie adjusted to walking barefooted on the sand. Initial squeals of discomfort led to furious little-tike shoveling; and soon enough, the pail was full of packed sand. Then we made our way to the water’s edge. When I placed his bare feet alongside the gentle ripples of cool water, Archie recoiled into my arms. Apparently, he didn’t like the feel of the wet grainy sand and the sensation of the water ebbing and flowing against his tiny sand infused toes.

My experience with Archie made me a bit reflective. I think about the difference between innate childhood adaptability and learned adult tentativeness. Children, with a bit of trusted support, expand their world. They thrive on discovery. And then adulthood takes over which sometimes makes adapting and embracing a bit more complex. I mean, years ago I loved going to Kings Island. I stood in line for far too long to ride the Beast roller coasters. Now, when I think about roller coasters, I get nauseous.

It took my grandson about 3 minutes (which included a big meltdown when the water splashed unexpectedly all over his face) to adapt, reset, settle, and ultimately welcome pure thrill. In no time, Archie was splashing, rolling a toy dump truck in and out of shallow water, and engaging more which meant I became totally soaked. His infectious giggle and full throttle water enjoyment brought me into his uncomplicated way of making new things fun. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that swoosh and swish back-straining 360 degree water game……so let’s just hope tomorrow when I wake I’ll be able to get out of bed.  

I love being “schooled” by young people. My 7-year-old granddaughter recently put me in temporary charge of her pet worm/beetle (I’m really not sure what it was). Her or his (gender non-affirming) name is Evie. The little worm-like glop came to me buried in raw oats in a plastic lid-punctured medicine vial. Don’t ask, but I gave the little critter little bits of carrot as instructed. Within days, the unsightly insect grew legs and opened up. The beetle-like critter remained unsightly], but because my granddaughter loved him or her, so did I (well, I wouldn’t say love). Bottom line, she told me to feed Evie carrots, and so I did. Now I find myself quite interested in Evie’s appetite.

I think as we get older, we undervalue the trust and open-mindedness it takes to be fearless and open to things like pet beetles. More time in the in the same wheelhouse just means we might seek similar wheelhouses. I know I get stuck in that trap sometimes, which is why I love spending time with my grandkids. The streamline towards delight becomes much more tenuous as life gets more complicated.

Sometimes, the more we live, the more reluctant we are to really live. I’m not sure if skydiving or mountain climbing is in my future, but I do hope I’m always willing to recognize the simple path that might lead to more lakeshores where toes are tickled by flowing delight.