James "escaped" the house while I was switching out the laundry. He thought he was getting away, but I heard him leave and soon followed. He hopped on his trike and headed straight for the little park at the end of our cul-de-sac. I was in pursuit with every intention of hauling him back to the house, kicking and screaming. But as I caught up to him at the park, he had already taken off for the slide and the breeze felt nice, almost fall-like, and he looked so happy that I figured the loads of laundry and sink piled with dishes could wait a few more minutes.
He slid down the slide, rolled in the sand and scooped the sand into the "trunk" of his tricycle. I enjoyed the cool breeze, bouncing Milly on my knee and listening to the birds sing and flit from tree to tree. I was able to breathe. It was very cleansing and calming. I sat there thinking about how often that little almost 3 year old is told what to do, where to go, and how fast (hurry, hurry!) I loved just watching him move at his own pace and make his own decisions-climb, slide, roll in the sand.
After about 15-20 minutes, James says "go home?" So, I followed him home. I put on a movie for him and am sitting here typing while nursing Milly to sleep. Then it will be back to the laundry and such. I could have spent the past half hour fighting a tantrum instead of enjoying a little break in the "great outdoors!" Maybe it's good to follow a two year old every once in a while!