I am an enemy of being cold. I think it is entirely possible that I could spend an entire winter inside my house, maybe making one sortie to get a Christmas tree. I have made an honest effort to go outside with the little dude during these snowy, chilly days, but my enthusiasm for being in the cold freezes so quickly that I have a lot of trouble faking enjoyment. This is one of the times where my wife’s Northern upbringing really pays off, because she can go out with the fella and have a snowy good time.
But today, with the temperature climbing to a wonderful 13 degrees Celsius, Max and I went out to the park to play. Fresh Air! No shivering! Swings!
I’m not sure if he’s actually as thrilled with the swings as it sounded, or if he was just having fun saying ‘Whee! I’m going so high!’, but it was great either way. It was another great benchmark experience for me as well, a chance to compare what he can accomplish now versus what he could do last fall. He is so tall and so coordinated now.
Mind you, he’s grown recently and I think his new big feet are proving to be a little tricky to steer, leading to several fall-downs and bonks in the last couple of days. But alongside the slow fall down the back stairs ending in an awkward looking faceplant, there comes the cognitive jump. He spent a good 30 minutes in imagination play today, giving distinct voices to the toys involved and having them join together to accomplish some kind of task. They were either cleaning the barn or having a race, I’m not clear which. The very idea of being able to have him contentedly engaged in creative play without my guidance or help is thrilling.