Since the weather has turned much warmer and mostly sunny, we’ve been taking Azita to the playground every day at least once. On nice days, she spends basically the entire day outside running around and burning off energy at daycare, so you can imagine how tired she is after we take her out for another hour when she gets home. Some nights she starts nodding off before we’re done eating dinner.
Maybe it’s that she’s so tired, but Azita is the funniest person on the playground. Maybe. I think it’s really that she has personality to spare.
We always start of at the little kids playground — the one for 2 to 5 year olds. That never lasts for very long. Within minutes Azita has run off across a large, mostly muddy and stony field, to the big kids playground. I’m amazed at her willingness to face the bigger and, to me, scarier.
When my sister and I were children, we were always so shy. Don’t get me wrong. We were definitely rough and tumble and fearless when it came to attempting physical stunts. But, we were happy to stay in a small space. It would never occur to us to talk to a child who talked to us, let alone approach one and talk to her. We spent a good deal of our time at the playground trying to hide our heads in the sand and avoid interacting with kids we didn’t know. Azita is no ostrich.
She runs up to kids she’s never seen and says “Hi”, and she tries to insert herself into their playground games. It doesn’t matter that she’s not even a year and half and these are 8 and 10 year olds. She is bold and brave and adventurous, and I admit that I beam with pride when I see this.
The best part is that she’s so funny. I love how she will run into the midst of a group of big kids playing tag and roar at the top of her lungs. And I mean roar. As in “RAAAAAAAAAAR.” Or how she’ll try to climb up onto the bottom of the slide, so she can collide with the kid coming down. Or how she’ll pick up a couple handfuls of mulch and throw it up in the air and spin around under it.
Her latest thing? Climbing up to the most tippy-top spot in the playground and yelling “DIIIEEEE.” It’s a bit scary I guess, but come on. She’s not really yelling “Die”, right? She’s only 15 months old. I’m pretty sure she’s never even heard the word. I’m not sure what she’s trying to say, but it cracks me up. Especially when the uptight yuppy moms with their $1000 strollers look horrified and scared.
It’s hard to stop myself from running up to Azita and giving her the biggest, tightest hug and most slobbery kiss I can muster. Not that I try to stop myself. I’m just so proud of her. And not worried. I know that when she’s a big girl, when she’s a woman even, she has the guts and the strength to make it through anything and the personality to back it up.
And dare I say it? I even admire her a little. You know, even a grown woman approaching 40 can learn a lot from a one year old if she really looks and listens.
