Our morning discovery

Here I sit in the napping house. No more quiet singing or narrating emits from James' room. He's asleep. Wooden blocks are strewn on the rug, waiting for their next architectural destiny. His little size 8 shoes rest next to the front door; the morning wet and grass bits are dry now. We found a bright green cicada this morning, having just emerged from his exoskeleton. James' eyes were the size of saucers and he squatted, oh so slowly, to have a closer look.

"He's alive, Mommy?"

"Yea, he just climbed out of his old shell and now he has wings. Do you want to hold the shell?"

Backing up quickly, "No, no, no. I don't want to hold the shell."

"It's okay, buddy. It's not alive. The cicada bug is, but his shell won't move. Here, I'll hold it first."

He craned his neck closer but kept the rest of his little body away, ready to flee if that alien beetle shell moved even the tiniest bit. Then he reached out. Stroked the back of the shell. At the crunchy, papery sound he recoiled. But then looked at me, grinned, and stood straighter with confidence.

"I can hold it?"

"Of course - here, hold it very gently in your hand."

And then, after a long inspection, he said, "Yet's put it in the grass and go inside. Buh-skeetos are biting me."

Those darn buh-skeetos, ending our sweet moment. But I'm thankful for the gift of watching and discovering him, discovering something amazing for the first time. That doesn't get old.

  

So cool, right?