Today I took the kids to my sister's house to see the chickens and ducks. Mister D was happy chasing the dumb birds all over the yard while they squawked their indignation at having to deal with both he and our anti-social dog.
He fed sticks and walnuts to the fish in the small pond. When he was scolded for disobeying a direct order and throwing a rock into the water, he very firmly informed me, "I not throw it. I drop it." This was true.
He found the dirt pile and discovered that the dog would jump and catch clumps of hard dirt if he threw them up for her, so he spent several minutes in complete bliss "making it rain" dirt. His deep, hearty chuckle and the impish grin on his face was pure BOY.
He was content with throwing handfuls of dirt, until Aunt Teresa brought out the shovel and pail. Gone were his concerns about dirty hands. Out of mind were any thoughts about playing with ducks. He was now a workin' man. Why is it that a pail and shovel will entertain little boys for hours on end?
This short visit occurred during nap time, so the ride home was relatively quiet. Baby T was sleeping peacefully within minutes of leaving the driveway, and Mister D was silent. I glanced in the rear view mirror, thinking he would be asleep.
He was simply staring out the window with a content smile on his little face.
I wonder what he's thinking when he's quiet, which isn't often. It seems that he's the most subdued when we're in the van. His countenance is pensive and he almost appears to be in another world. Is he remembering a ride with his mother? Does something look familiar to him?
Today, he is happy to sit and watch the field for cows and butterflies. And I am happy to watch him watching.