Ideal Bite

My perfect nephew, Quinn, came to stay with me over the Thanksgiving break (his parents came, too, but they didn't give me nearly as many baby breath sloppy kisses, so they don't rank quite as high in my esteem). It was the first time Quinn and his mom had seen my house, and since said house is decidedly un-child-friendly, I was a bit nervous. Would he pull over my glass end tables and cut up his perfect alabaster skin? Would my hardwood floors conk his head and knees? Would my sharp-clawed cat get to his Sinatra-blue eyes?

And then even if he did manage to travel the pitfalls of my 100 year old house - what would he DO there? I don't have any toys. No cars to vroom-vroom, no stuffed animals or balls or even books that might keep a 16 month-old occupied for 5 minutes or so.  Should I go buy books and games and trucks that beep?

Oh puhlease. Quinn did just what kids the world over do. He played. He ran and he played. He played with the cat (no scratching), he ran up and down the hall, loving the slidey-ness of the wood floors (not too much conking). He kept me company while I baked pumpkin bread and Thanksgiving side dishes, his little butt scooting on the kitchen floor, while he beat a cake pan with a wooden spoon.

And suddenly, I saw the world through his eyes - the newness of a place he'd never been, the noise of a makeshift drumset, the loud purr of a kitty. And you know what? That world is pretty damn good.

These little folks? They don't need all the "stuff" we think they do. Hell, at this age, they are never going to remember the things you get them - these items that end up in basement corners and landfills in a matter of years. Until Quinn will remember opening the present, he's gonna get three kinds of gifts from me: money for college, books to read before sleep, and donations to save the world so that he will always have places to run around.

-Heather... off to adopt a penguin...