Oh, my little Tag Fiddler has outgrown fiddling with tags. I just noticed this today while watching her try to undo the wrapper on a juice bottle. The action was almost the same - pointer finger going back and forth repetitively; eyes, no, whole body, rapt in attention - but the intention was clearly different. There was a purpose to this fiddling - to undo. What she has moved on from is fiddling for fiddling's sake.
And I am reminded of a book that I read called Paris in Love. I don't remember too much from this memoir but I do remember the point that the author aptly made about being a parent and how we often don't know when the "last" thing happens: the last bath; the last night in the crib; the last story read before bed; the last time we hold hands crossing the street. Thinking about this notion could go one of two ways: it could make me desperate to hold onto every moment, grasp it as if it were the last, or it could allow me to open up to the passing of time and the growing that is happening so tangibly right in front of my eyes.
The latter sounds much more delightful. But I wonder, to do this well must we recognize the passing of something - pay it honor with a smile and a nod? Does bowing to the Tag Fiddler while she is fiddling tags AND when I notice that she no longer does so help? I don't know. But I am going to give it a try.
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