One aspect of my day-to-day that doesn’t change regardless of whether I wake up feeling blah, overwhelmed, just fine or a bit inspired is the one constant view I have:
MR. C PLAYING WITH CARS.
It is what he does. What soothes him, his play-time, where he runs right in the morning, or after a rough tantrum, or when getting home from being out.
MR. C PLAYING WITH CARS.
It is such a part of his current story. His focus. His car sounds. His sacred adventurous world. More to it than I can even perceive. It is his thing. I am privileged to watch and even sometimes get to join in. But it is his.
MR. C PLAYING WITH CARS.
Thanks to a recent trip to the thrift store, and $2.80, now he plays on this wooden ramp. Now this fits. It suits him and I imagine him thinking: now this is more like it. These ramps look a lot more like the real thing than the plastic world we recently had forced upon him (my bad – got sucked in on the big toy store’s version of a car ramp – for what – $40 dollars or something – ughgh.) It is now a permanent fixture on the coffee table. And the fun continues. And continues.
And to whoever donated this precious car ramp to the thrift store, my thanks.
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