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Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
That's a phrase I've been teaching the Little Man. I figure, why not start with the good stuff.
Actually, he's got a part of that down. Bubble. Sort of. You see part of the bedtime routine is to take a bath, and he just loves the water. A month or so ago (perhaps longer, my sense of the passage of days is a bit off kilter recently) my wife picked up a bottle of bubble bath, which also came with one of those wands so that you can blow bubbles. We added that to the bath routine, and recently, when its time to get into the bath, he's been saying "babum". Which is his version of asking for the bubbles. It's quite distinct and repeated often, so it's not just a chance thing, it's quite intentional. And it's used in context. IE, if I bring out the bottle of bubbles, he'll say it. Or if I say the word "bubbles" he'll say it back to me.
Tonight, as I was blowing bubbles at him, I noticed that he was trying to scoop them up off the surface of the bath, and eat them. I find that kind of surprising, since the other day, I tried to make a real "bubble bath" with lots of suds, and he ended up with an accidental mouthful of bubbles, and that ended the bath right quick. So shock beyond shock, tonight, he was trying to eat the bubbles.
I don't know when the last time you might have blown bubbles, with a simple wand. There is something unabashedly fun about the experience. Something wondrous, even now at my age, watching the bubbles flow out of the wand and twirl off into the wind of my breath. Depending on the mix of water and soap, I have nights where I can blow enormous bubbles that could encompass a grapefruit, other times I can only produce small ping-pong sized bubbles at best. I've watched bubbles bounce off the surface of the bath once, twice, before settling on the surface on the third contact. I watched bubbles collide in mid-air and form radical shapes that remind me of molecule diagrams from college chemistry. Sometimes the collision bursts both bubbles. Sometimes they bounce off each other, sending each on a complete new trajectory. Most just land on the surface of the water, either to burst or slowly, collect into little islands. When enough mass together it gives the whole of it a honeycomb appearance. That rarely lasts long, because the Little Man considers it his duty to disrupt those with fierce intensity. I alternate between the two distinct challenges of seeing how many bubbles I can flood the air with on a single dip of the soap, with trying to see how large a bubble I can manage without bursting it. Both, made more challenging by the happy child waiting to burst that large bubble, or make me laugh so that I lose my breath mid-stream.
If it's been a long time since you've done so, go pick up a small jar at the local dollar shop (or equivalent) and go spend some time blowing bubbles. Spring is finally in full swing; the weather is pleasant enough so that it's neither freezing cold, nor sweltering hot. (At least here in New Jersey, your mileage may vary.) Give yourself even just half an hour to recapture one tiny piece of youth that might have stolen away as you grew older and let the responsibilities pile up so. Take it back, and revel in watching a shiny, floating, swirling sphere that glints with a flash of captured rainbow. Watch them dance on the wind, for as long as they can before they burst. Set aside your cares for a while, as you have some old, simple, fun.
That's a phrase I've been teaching the Little Man. I figure, why not start with the good stuff.
Actually, he's got a part of that down. Bubble. Sort of. You see part of the bedtime routine is to take a bath, and he just loves the water. A month or so ago (perhaps longer, my sense of the passage of days is a bit off kilter recently) my wife picked up a bottle of bubble bath, which also came with one of those wands so that you can blow bubbles. We added that to the bath routine, and recently, when its time to get into the bath, he's been saying "babum". Which is his version of asking for the bubbles. It's quite distinct and repeated often, so it's not just a chance thing, it's quite intentional. And it's used in context. IE, if I bring out the bottle of bubbles, he'll say it. Or if I say the word "bubbles" he'll say it back to me.
Tonight, as I was blowing bubbles at him, I noticed that he was trying to scoop them up off the surface of the bath, and eat them. I find that kind of surprising, since the other day, I tried to make a real "bubble bath" with lots of suds, and he ended up with an accidental mouthful of bubbles, and that ended the bath right quick. So shock beyond shock, tonight, he was trying to eat the bubbles.
I don't know when the last time you might have blown bubbles, with a simple wand. There is something unabashedly fun about the experience. Something wondrous, even now at my age, watching the bubbles flow out of the wand and twirl off into the wind of my breath. Depending on the mix of water and soap, I have nights where I can blow enormous bubbles that could encompass a grapefruit, other times I can only produce small ping-pong sized bubbles at best. I've watched bubbles bounce off the surface of the bath once, twice, before settling on the surface on the third contact. I watched bubbles collide in mid-air and form radical shapes that remind me of molecule diagrams from college chemistry. Sometimes the collision bursts both bubbles. Sometimes they bounce off each other, sending each on a complete new trajectory. Most just land on the surface of the water, either to burst or slowly, collect into little islands. When enough mass together it gives the whole of it a honeycomb appearance. That rarely lasts long, because the Little Man considers it his duty to disrupt those with fierce intensity. I alternate between the two distinct challenges of seeing how many bubbles I can flood the air with on a single dip of the soap, with trying to see how large a bubble I can manage without bursting it. Both, made more challenging by the happy child waiting to burst that large bubble, or make me laugh so that I lose my breath mid-stream.
If it's been a long time since you've done so, go pick up a small jar at the local dollar shop (or equivalent) and go spend some time blowing bubbles. Spring is finally in full swing; the weather is pleasant enough so that it's neither freezing cold, nor sweltering hot. (At least here in New Jersey, your mileage may vary.) Give yourself even just half an hour to recapture one tiny piece of youth that might have stolen away as you grew older and let the responsibilities pile up so. Take it back, and revel in watching a shiny, floating, swirling sphere that glints with a flash of captured rainbow. Watch them dance on the wind, for as long as they can before they burst. Set aside your cares for a while, as you have some old, simple, fun.
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