|The preeminent White Blankie|
While traveling this summer, we noticed him rubbing the edge of an airline blanket (permanently borrowed by our Eastern Shore relatives).
"Do you like the edge of that blanket?" my husband asked.
"Yes," answered D. "It's in my collection."
"Your collection? What collection do you have?" said his dad.
"A collection of soft edges," replied the sleepy four-year-old boy. "I keep it in my heart."
|My contribution to the collection|
Children, maybe just my children, want to touch everything around them and I am often discouraging their need to explore because I'm so worried about germs. But they are little scientists accumulating data using all of their senses. He is experiencing the world more fully and more freely than an adult like me who only grazes handrails and doorknobs, who is cautious of prickly plants and direct contact with the bottom of shoes, and even wary of setting my coffee spoon down on our outdoor furniture.
Despite my warnings, he continues to touch things and classify the world using his own special criteria. I try to accept his approach and allow him to experiment, investigate, cast off or embrace what he chooses. I am grateful, at least, that with this collection there is nothing for me to dust.