Dub Dose
At the end of our daily afternoon walks, Jackson likes to explore our neighbor's garden as we walk up to our house.
This is not your regular garden.
This is just the kind of garden a child would love to wander through and get lost in only to discover smooth stones leading nowhere, vibrant coy fish swimming under the soft trickle of a waterfall and colorful glass sculptures popping up through fronds, reeds and leaves.
As he follows the small path between our houses, he always passes a statue of a bunny that is just a few inches shorter that he is. He adores this garden-bunny and likes to touch its nose, ears, etc. Yesterday he "hugged" the bunny by pressing his forehead against its stony face.
While bent to embrace his rocky friend, he noticed a few white flowers bowing toward the ground.
A few weeks ago, I tried teaching him how to "sniff" flowers instead of grabbing and crushing them.
And I guess he remembered.
Because he squatted down next to those tiny white petals and commenced an elaborate "sniffing" of them.
There was much "breathing in" and even noisier "breathing out."
And sure, some of the flowers may have even been "watered" by his enthusiastic sniffing process.
But still, I was proud of our little florist.
This is not your regular garden.
This is just the kind of garden a child would love to wander through and get lost in only to discover smooth stones leading nowhere, vibrant coy fish swimming under the soft trickle of a waterfall and colorful glass sculptures popping up through fronds, reeds and leaves.
As he follows the small path between our houses, he always passes a statue of a bunny that is just a few inches shorter that he is. He adores this garden-bunny and likes to touch its nose, ears, etc. Yesterday he "hugged" the bunny by pressing his forehead against its stony face.
While bent to embrace his rocky friend, he noticed a few white flowers bowing toward the ground.
A few weeks ago, I tried teaching him how to "sniff" flowers instead of grabbing and crushing them.
And I guess he remembered.
Because he squatted down next to those tiny white petals and commenced an elaborate "sniffing" of them.
There was much "breathing in" and even noisier "breathing out."
And sure, some of the flowers may have even been "watered" by his enthusiastic sniffing process.
But still, I was proud of our little florist.
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