For
example, about a year and a half or so ago, my then-barely-3-year-old looked
out her car window during our drive home from daycare one morning, spied the
telephone wires strung beside the road, and announced, “Look, Mommy! There are
high wires along the road!” By high
wires, she meant the same apparatus along which crazy people… I mean tightrope artists…
walk, jump, flip, tumble and ride bicycles during circus acts. You may think “awe, how
precious.” And I did, too. But her
observation also touched my heart – enough to write a short story about a very
special tightrope walker – and made me wish I could see the world again as she
does.
Well,
today unexpectedly provided me that opportunity.
My
sweet Ballerina is 4 now, and today my mother and I took her to the High Museum of Art in Atlanta. Ballerina loves art, and the last time I took her to the High, she
talked about it for weeks. Today’s experience
was a little less awe-inspiring for Ballerina, and she spent far less time
focused on the artwork, choosing instead to direct her energies on traversing
each level of the museum as quickly as possible and then demanding to travel via elevator
(very important mode of transportation for her) to the next level.
She
did, however, take some time in one small area of the museum to describe several of the statues
to my mom and me. My favorite descriptions were of these two sculptures below,
both by William Wetmore Story (1819-1895).
This one is entitled “Homer Looking for
Leander”.
Ballerina’s description: “That lady’s in a robe and she's trying to paint something... Look, she has a back!”
This next one
is entitled “Medea Contemplating the Death of
her Children“.
Ballerina’s
description: “That lady looks mad and has a knife. I want a knife.”
Later, as we sat at the metro train station
waiting to head home, Zoe pointed out the following sign and announced, “I know
what that means…”
“… It means ‘No Smoke Signals.’”
Finally – and while this next story is not a
Ballerina observation per se, it epitomizes the wonder and fun of getting to
interact with her every day – when we dropped my mother at her car at the end
of this adventure, Ballerina and I had the following conversation, about which
I’m still a bit befuddled.
Ballerina: “Why
is Grandma’s car here at the park?”
Me: “Because
Bear’s and my races were here this morning, and she came to watch us. And then she came with me in my car afterward, to go get you.”
Ballerina: “But
what did she do while you were running?”
Me: “She watched Bear while I ran my race, and
then she cheered for Bear during his race.”
Ballerina: “So
now what?”
Me: “Now
we have to go home.”
Ballerina: “Is Grandma
going to attach the wings to her car and fly around for a while?”
Me: “Um…
what?”
Ballerina: “Nothin’.”
Me: “No,
really… what?”
Ballerina (very serious): “Nothin’, Mom.”
Um… what?
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