The sun is always blazing in the Arizona sky, but when the cloud cover comes and there is a slight breeze, it makes for the perfect day. Flowers are blooming, the bushes and cacti are getting their blooms as well, and the toddlers are getting antsy to go outside. Antsy enough to start pushing their “Little Tikes” table to the front door with the pure intention of unlocking it to make a beeline for freedom. LUCKILY, the mischievous three year old twin daughters of mine, Rose and Lily, were caught. Rose standing on the table, Lily holding a chair, and their big cousin Daisy on the lookout, but all three ready to leave.
“GIRLS!!! Where do you think you are going? We do not unlock doors. We use our words!” This was stated in more of a scared tone, a mother worried that her children, and her niece as well, would actually wander out of the home. It made me think it was time to install a deadbolt on the door, though I was frustrated trying to figure out how to go about that in a rental home.
“We want park,” said Daisy in her sing song voice, always making it a point to lead her cousins into doing what she wanted to do.
“Yeah! Park and walk, peas!” said Lily, always so forward with what she wanted.
And again, Rose, my dearest Rose, was still trying to get out the door; no shoes, no socks, but sheer determination to go experience the outdoors.
“Daniel, let’s go! They can’t wait any longer!” I yelled for my husband, who always seemed to disappear into the garage where there was inevitably a project to do.
The twins got their cute little backpacks on, one panda and one puppy, which had little leashes that I wore around my wrist.
Yes, I was judged. Yes, it kept them safe. Yes, it felt odd having my kids on leashes.
They knew from a young age, honestly, from the minute they learned to crawl, that I could only catch one of them at a time. They just had to go opposite ways. They were twins with opposite personalities as it was.
Therefore, leashes until we got to the park, Daisy walking beside us, and we all made it there safely.
The park itself was lovely. Arizona is normally rocky, dusty, and desert like, but this park was surrounded by lush grass, a pool, and a lovely playground.
The kids were ready. Slides, sand, running in the grass. Warnings for them to stay together and where we could see them. All was well until it wasn’t.
Rose ran faster than we had ever seen her run, straight into the grass, and snatched something up.
Was it a brown piece of poop? A rock? No, it was long, brown, and looked kind of fluffy. My lord, it’s something dead. She grabbed something dead out of the grass. My eyes, though, could not tell what it was…
Her father and I both bolted toward her and realized our three year old had somehow managed to grab a feathery friend. Not dead, but a living, breathing bird that was minding its own business sunbathing in the grass. She had managed to capture a bird at three years old, one handed, in the long grass in the middle of the park. She picked that thing up like it was a hotdog, but in the gentlest way possible because she knew what she was grabbing. A BIRD.
Yes, I shrieked when I realized what it was. No, I did not have hand sanitizer on me. And yes, my cheeky three year old was incredibly proud of what she had accomplished.
She put the bird down as we coaxed her to do so, explaining we can’t just go around grabbing creatures. It stayed for a few seconds, almost confused by what had just happened to it, got its bearings, and flew away.
In that moment, I realized parenting is no walk in the park, it’s more like Jurassic Park, and Daniel and I were in for it.
Time has gone on, and Rose is still our mischievous one, getting her first detention in second grade and somehow enjoying service work because she gets out of recess in the Arizona heat. Smart kid. Lily ended up with a school expulsion in third grade for taking down a sixth grader who was bullying her. No punishment from me, because self defense is necessary. Then there is Daisy, sweet as pie.
Then there is me, “Silver Fox,” as Daniel likes to say; while I pick the silver hairs off my head. I am not even old, but they still show up. Probably stress from the “whats found in the long grass moments and whether or not the kids choose to pick it up.”
Interestingly enough, because Inwas concerned about these hairs, I Googled it once, and apparently it means wise. So at leas these situations are making me wiser. I swear I’m just winging it like everyone else. What I want to know is “Why doesnt Daniel have any silvers?” I’ve asked him and he just laughs it off…
So me personally as mom and auntie am making it a point to tell my kids about these long grass moments of their childhood. The times they did something or found something in life hidden in the tall grass that was worth Mom or Dad remembering. A story worth telling later. Just like the bird story, which by the way was a hit later on. They all cant believe including, Rose herself, that she grabbed a burd out of the grass with her bare hand.
Like that bird once release it flew and it feew away fast. Just as time does.
So if you’re a parent, watch out for those long grass moments. You never know what’s hiding there, but once you find out what it is, it might just make for a great story and great memory to share.