Today was a particularly important day for the critters that live in our yard.
One of the most darling play-acting trends that my children are practicing during this pandemic is that of the caregiver. My oldest has created critters out of our recyclables. He makes beds, perches, couches, parties, and food for them. He’s made additional critters for me and for my youngest, with stern lectures prepared for when we don’t take proper care of them. They go with us on our walks, especially the one that eats flower nectar. It flits from flower to flower, happily taking in sustenance and keeping the quarantine-crazies at bay. My youngest and I try to take care of our critters, but we cannot match the love that my oldest bestows upon his own little ones.
My youngest, however, has developed a deep infatuation for worms, potato bugs, slugs, and centipedes. He is constantly caressing them, carrying them from one dirt spot to another, putting them down, and picking them up. He cannot get enough of their wildly waving little legs and wriggling bodies. When it comes time to part, he cannot leave them on his own. Together, we find the best home for them, and once he finally places them back on the ground, I grab his little hand to wave goodbye. Then, I must immediately whisk him away or else his wee hands will snatch the little creature back up faster than if it had been the last piece of Pirate’s Booty.
Today was a particularly important day for the creepy-crawlies that live in our yard. Today was the day they got a new home! Much care was given to its construction, including carefully placed mini-shovelfuls of dirt, sticks that stuck straight out of the top of the pile, decorative bits of fennel and dandelion, and a snazzy leaf flag, flying high above it all. Sadly, many of the creepy-crawlies were lost within the dirt pile when the two builders engaged in mild fisticuffs over who would squat where around the building site. Although they expressed grief over the lost worms, centipedes, and slugs, everyone then felt quite consoled when we realized that they were not lost at all – they had found their way home!
My condolences go out to the families of creepy-crawlies who lost loved ones in the construction of the home for which they had no need or desire. Your sacrifice allowed us to live another day of quarantine life, sanity intact (although “sanity intact” may be a questionable assessment after re-reading this post).
I am hoping that my sons always keep their inner caregiver alive despite the pressures from society to suppress this natural and beautiful inclination. It is such a lovely thing to see a man caring for his children, for others, and for himself. More than lovely, in these moments, I hope I’m seeing the fragile seeds of gender equality flourishing within my children. I used to think that the key to women’s rights was simply the recognition that women were equal to men. But this is only half of the equation. The menfolk may not be able to breastfeed or be pregnant, but they are capable doing everything else. Let’s welcome men into the roles traditionally assigned to women and celebrate the caregiver that lives inside them, instead of stigmatizing this most valuable human quality.
This is my plan for now, at least. And I’m starting with the dirt pile.
Lemonade from Infected Lemons 