Through a Child’s Eyes
Posted on October 31, 2016 by bob in EdNote
Two enduring qualities of children are their straight-forwardness, and their capacity to connect previously unconnected elements, producing a new observation. They are blatantly honest, asking unknowingly probing questions and making insightful observations without realizing it. They are without guile, and will lay it on the line when observing the world around them.
One day, after thumbing through Bob’s and my wedding photo album with our granddaughter, she made a perfectly normal observation about her Papou (Greek for grandfather). “Yiayia,” she said, somewhat surprised, “Papou have hair in these pictures!”
“Yes, he does,” I replied, having watched my husband slowly grow bald over our ensuing 37 years of marriage.
As she perused the remaining photos I saw her stop and study one picture in particular. It was Bob leaping off the floor in a spirited Greek dance during our wedding reception, his hair flying high above his head.
You could almost see the question forming in her three-and-a-half-year-old brain. “What happen to Papou’s hair?” she asked.
More interested in her thoughts than any answer I’d give, I turned the question back on her. “What do you think happened to his hair?”
She pondered it for a few seconds, still studying the photograph. Suddenly she looked up, confident in her answer. “I think it blowed away!”
From her point of view it was infinitely logical, and her conviction was undeniable — no androgenic alopecia, no receding hairline. The wind just blew it away.
On another afternoon, as we wandered around our backyard with squirrels leaping limb-to-limb above us, we were picking up acorns and letting the grandchildren toss them in the fountain to make a splash.
“Did you know squirrels eat these?” Bob observed, showing them how to stand back and toss the acorns into the fountain from a distance to make a bigger splash. Our two-year-old grandson, about to heave a handful of acorns into the water, stopped and looked up at the frenzied pace of the jumping squirrels. Looking back at the treasure in his hand, his face suddenly grew serious as he walked to the edge of the patio and threw the acorns into the grass.
“Why he do that?” Sister asked.
Our grandson’s face still deadpan, he pointed with his finger. “Squirrel want to eat,” he thoughtully explained.
While assuring him it’s okay to toss a few acorns into the fountain, and relating why we really didn’t really even want squirrels around the yard anyway, Bob soon yielded, helping him gather acorns from the patio and tossing them into the yard.
“Here, squirrel,” said our grandson, dropping several acorns in the grass. “Time to eat.”
The depth of a child’s imagination is astonishing. What they can conjure up in those young brains amazes me. Whether they imagine a grandfather’s hair flying away in the wind, or see themselves preparing a meal for a small squirrel, often our best role as parents and grandparents is not to inject the rational world into our conversations.
We must protect them, of course, from danger and injury, and provide guidance when instruction is called for. But being as much observer as participant can teach us, too. The old saying, “See the world through a child’s eyes,” is never more important than when we’re being schooled in the company of these astonishing little people.
Sandra Polizos, Editor
primeeditor@gmail.com
