This past Tuesday I babysat my grand niece Millie for the morning. After breakfast she said, in her twenty-six month old dialect, ‘Outside.’
Out we went.
There are some rocks in Millie’s yard we climbed, sat and jumped off of. There were acorns to collect, load into my two cupped hands (Millie’s dump truck) and dump out. There were leaves to pick and pick up; pinecones to organize; rocks to move; old cut grass to make into beds – and Millie’s house.
Millie’s house was in a strip of woods between her family’s actual house and their neighbors. It was a one-foot diameter leaf covered spot surrounded by bushy vines. One single vine lay on the ground – that was Millie’s door. She pulled it back to cross the threshold and curled it back to close it.
“You.” She opened the ‘door’ for me and I stepped in.
While in Millie’s house she reached over to a pile of grass clippings and began heaping handfuls for a cushy bed for Red Leaf. When red leaf was fast asleep Millie got the idea to make a bed for herself inside her house. I was shuffled out – as was she – while she transformed her one-foot diameter floor into a bed. When completed she curled herself up on her newly made bed and took a nap.
“You,” came her command when naptime was done.
Now that’s a nap worth taking.