Boulders in the bank
by Jennifer Cohron
Sep 23, 2012 | 1480 views | 0 0 comments | 13 13 recommendations | email to a friend | print
Jennifer Cohron
Jennifer Cohron
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I have spent the past week at home getting reacquainted with my son.

While I am at the office, I miss so many of Wyatt’s random moments throughout the day. It is only when I take a vacation that I get to really appreciate him for the unique little boy he is.

Before I became a parent, I was uncomfortable around kids. I had a hard time relating to them because they were so unlike adults.

Having Wyatt has shown me that the mindset of a child makes much more sense than that of an adult.

For example, I am a slave to the clock, whereas time means nothing to Wyatt.

Zac and I tried to tell him that Mommy and Daddy were going to be home with him for a whole week, but we might as well have been speaking Japanese.

He doesn’t know that days have names or add up to be weeks.

He knows that some mornings he goes to Nana’s and some mornings he’s stuck with me, but I don’t think he understands why. However, he has figured out that it has something to do with “wok.”

Without the concept of time, it was impossible to explain to Wyatt how long his routine would be interrupted and when it would go back to normal.

He just woke up every morning, went about his business of having fun and let us take it from there.

One of my favorite things about Wyatt is his lack of inhibition.

What you think of him doesn’t influence his behavior one bit. If he realizes that you have an opinion of him at all, he naturally assumes it is that he is awesome.

While we were in the grocery store on Monday, Wyatt was walking down the main aisle doing his Lion King impression. I didn’t think anything of it until a woman turned around after she passed us, laughed and asked Wyatt, “Did you just growl at me?”

It probably looked like Wyatt was roaring like that to get attention, but those who love him know that his only reason for doing anything is because it seems like a good idea at the time.

If you are entertained or find him utterly adorable, so be it, but any judgment beyond that is of no consequence to him.

Wyatt is also the least materialistic person I know.

As an only child and grandchild, he has plenty of toys. While he will certainly never turn down a new one, its price tag has nothing to do with how much or how little it will get played with.

Wyatt’s most prized possessions are his rocks.

He picks them up everywhere — our driveway, the walking track, parking lots. We have them in all shapes, colors and sizes.

Cleaning up around the house is like an Easter egg hunt because I can always count on finding at least one or two of Wyatt’s favorites hidden in the clutter.

A few days ago, Wyatt brought the sandwich bag where we keep his rocks over to our coffee table, dumped them all out and announced, “Play rocks, Mommy!”

I wasn’t exactly sure how to play with rocks, so I followed his lead.

First, we sorted them into piles that had no particular order to them. Then we got out his dinosaurs and scattered them around the table too.

When Wyatt got bored with that, he wanted to get out his small piggy bank. He usually shakes all of the coins out and puts them back in again a few times.

This day, though, he emptied the piggy back and shoved one of his roundest rocks in the hole underneath.

“Look, Mommy!” he said, obviously very proud of himself.

Zac and I recently had a conversation about money and the false sense of security I seek from the balance in our checking account. I told him that I wanted to work on freeing myself of that attitude.

I didn’t expect one of my first lessons would come from a very wise 2-year-old and his bank full of rocks.