Last night I was walking home from work at 5.30pm thinking everything looked just lovely. It was a mild night, Christmas lights were on in windows and it was a nice night to be walking home in Halifax. A man and his son came out from the school around the corner and started to walk in front of me. The little boy was about 6-ish, had a massive backpack on and dad had just picked him up from after school care, after what, I'm assuming, was a long day at work. As they walked hand in hand, the little boy walked a step and a half to keep up with his dad and talked non-stop. He had had such a good day it seemed, and couldn't wait to tell his dad about it. We all stopped at a red light and I managed to over hear him remark, "I wonder... how come, nobody knows how many types of aliens there
actually are?"
I felt so fortunate to hear it, to over hear and get a glimpse of what was going on in this little guys head as he walked home from school in the dark with his dad. His dad appeared oblivious to the magic that was happening right beside him, unfortunately. I thought about it last night and reminded myself that when it's time to walk home from school with our daughter, it's time to give to her. To listen, to acknowledge, to connect, to soak her all in. That's all kids want. It starts there. And - they're funny as hell.
