Worms
I love three year olds. Yesterday, I went out to dig in my flowerbeds with Weston in tow. He asks a million questions of course and I try to answer the best I can. I found an earthworm right off the bat and he wanted to know what it was.
Angie & Billy Hollowell's son Weston.
I said, "Its a worm!"
He said, "I wan it." So he held out his little hands and I picked up the long, squirmy, shiny worm and dropped it into his hand. Most kids would have squealed and dropped it, but not Weston. He looked down into his hand with the most loving expression and said, "Oh, hi, little worm!"
By the time I finished digging, he had a whole handful. It was almost like a cartoon! Imagine a little boy with cupped hands with worms wiggling and spilling over the edge. He was delighted. But, in a bit, I heard the screen door slam and looked around. He was not with me anymore. Then I heard the kitchen screen slam. Ooops! Worms in the house! I followed the trail of dropped earthworms, picking them up as I went (NO, I don't know WHY I was picking them up!). On the way through the kitchen, I grabbed a bowl. Weston just had to show his worms to the girls who were squealing and using words like "gross." He had the funniest look on his face. They did not like his treasure!
We transferred the worms to a bowl and he carried them around all day. When they began to look a bit dried out, we added some dirt and water. They even took a nap on Nick's bedside table. When it was time to go home, the quivering little bottom lip made me scrounge up a ziplock and again transfer the worms. Weston took his worms home with him, though I surreptiously dumped a few of them back into the flowerbeds. Those worms made his day. That we would be so simple.
By Amy Auker
Read about a Greasy cowboy
Poems by Oscar Auker.
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