Trusting our children
A few years ago I took my family to the beach for the weekend. Finn wanted to watch the sun rise over the water. Finn has just turned six. I explained that we were in the wrong part of Australia to do that, but from our geographical spot we could probably see the sunset.
I was tired. I didn’t want to drag my sorry self out of the house and down to the beach. But Finn knew that we must. We also had half a bucket of pipi’s left over from dinner. The boys had caught them that day down at Venus Bay and we hadn’t used them all in our dinner. They were stretching and swimming in their little plastic home and my heart was breaking for them. It was their time to feed.
Resolutely I shook the tiredness from my eyes, took the boy by the hand and we headed to the water, just me and my little man and our bucket of pipi’s. In that moment I loved them as much as my own new baby.
We made it to the beach in time to see the sun sliding behind the sand dunes. The tide was high and Finn joyously threw the pipi’s into the water. Immediately they began to burrow deep into the sand. I was in tears. Finn danced on the sand and exclaimed again and again, ‘This is so beautiful mum!’.
We waited until the pipi’s were deep into the sand and we slowly walked back to our car. Not since the birth of Luka had we done anything, just the two of us. It felt so good to be honouring the close of the day, the cleansing ocean, and my son’s profound and deeply self-assured instincts to be there in the first place.
It took a little more effort but the reward was great. I could see the love pouring out of my first born for he had been heard and recognised for the great wise being that he is.