My daughter notices things the rest of us don’t. Without the sense of sight she takes in the world in a different way, observing things we don’t even realize. I’m going to get used to this happening at some point but for now it still impresses me when she points out something that’s so obvious to her that I would have never even noticed.
For example, on our way to Detroit we had time, and like a good mother, focused on eating healthful foods, I told her we could stop in at the candy store in the local airport terminal to get a few pieces of candy before we boarded the plane. She selected some strange gummy options and I talked myself into adding Lemon Heads to the bag before we checked out.
She rations her candy and saves some for her brother and father and keeps it in her backpack. Yesterday after surgery (or the lack thereof) we went to the mall to have lunch, throw pennies from her panda purse into the fountain and get some candy before heading to the airport.
We were in the penny throwing phase of our mall visit and talking about what we were doing next. She informed me it was ice cream followed by candy. I mentioned she still had candy from the day before so she could only get three pieces today. I also mentioned that the store in the mall had a different selection so she could get some other things. Then she said, “yes, and the other candy store has carpet and the one here doesn’t”.
Of course she was right, but with all the colors and fun looking candy bins, what sighted person would notice the floor material in a candy store? And yet my daughter does notice. I wonder what other things she knows about that everyone else overlooks because we’re doing exactly that—looking.
Another thing that was interesting was the tall seat discussion/disagreement she and I had while getting lunch at the mall. I’d placed the order and while waiting for our food I suggested we find a seat. My daughter said she wanted the tall seats. I told her, after looking around the food court, that there were no tall seats.
She said yes, there were and headed to the perimeter of the circular food court area. I looked out and saw nothing but a wooden wall where she was standing. I told her again that there were no tall seats. She said, “no, mom, over here”. And I still didn’t believe her. So I went to fetch her after putting our drinks on a non-tall table. Where did I find her? At the one section of bar-height chairs on the perimeter of the food court, just beyond where I could see.
She remembered. She’d mapped the location in relation to Chick-Fil-A and she knew they were there. She didn’t rely on vision to let her know there were tall seats, she knew because she’d sat there before. And the sad thing is—I’d sat there with her but because I didn’t see it, I didn’t remember it.
I’ve got to stop doubting her when she says she knows what she’s talking about.
The Big Boy Update: My children are having some fear issues lately when going to bed. My daughter started it and my son has caught it. I’m not sure the reason but we’re working through it. Tonight after the children were in bed my husband and I were talking and putting up the dishes from dinner when my son came out of their room and told us he’d had a nightmare. We’re not sure he had actually fallen asleep but he did seem scared. I offered to walk him back to his room and put him to bed but that wasn’t good enough he said, “because when you’re around me I’m not scared”. So he’s in the basement with me now, lying on the couch with a blanket while I write this blog post. Hopefully he’ll be asleep by the time I finish.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Speaking of fear, when my daughter and I arrived home from our long travels yesterday, my husband was still at a board meeting and my son was away with my in-laws. I’m not sure what my daughter was worried about but she kept hearing things—thumps, bumps, walking noises, etc.—in the house as I unpacked and put up our things. She wanted to be right beside me no matter where I went. After the third or fourth thing I didn’t hear and wondered if she was making up she told me with an air of confidence, “this house has to be haunted”.
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