Thursday, September 16, 2010

Nature's Toys

Owen has always loved to collect, sort, categorize small objects.  For a while it was cars.  Then it was coins (this is actually still a favorite).  But over the summer he developed a real love for rocks.

Owen may even have a greater appreciation for the many colors, shapes, textures, and sizes that rocks come in, than his father...who happens to be a Geologist. 

He can spend hours hunting rocks.  Everywhere we go he has an eye looking out for the perfect specimen. Rocks seem to fill every space in our house. 

They fill empty shoe boxes, Tupperware containers, little cloth pouches, baskets, and even in his bed.  They're on my counters, tables and desks.  He even has his own rock identification book that he likes to browse when not playing with the real thing. 

Nature finding it's way into our house is nothing new.  There are often sticks, seeds, nuts, and once a pet slug, that frequent our home, but nothing quite as prolific as Owens rocks.  Recently after finding a sock filled with small rocks I made him pick his 5 favorite of all the rocks in his room and return the rest to the yard.  It took him nearly 20 minutes to decide on which ones he wanted to keep.  This has become a weekly routine (usually after recovering from the pain of stepping on a lone rock and the blast of resulting profanity) I help Owen picks his favorites and return the rest back to their waiting spot outside. 

Yesterday as I was making dinner I thought I heard Owen calling for me.  I made my way over to the bedroom door and realized that he wasn't talking to me.  He had 3 rocks, with he was using as toy people.  He had a whole story he was acting out with these three rocks.  They were talking to each other, riding bikes, and building a house.  It's not uncommon to find scenes like this around the house:

I look around the room our boys share, at the abundance of toys and games, and cant help but chuckle in realizing that the ones which seem to offer the most pleasure are not manufactured or purchased.  They don't make noise or move by themselves.  The ones that seem to make the best companions on a rainy fall day are those, like Owen's precious rocks, which open their imagination so large that their are no limits to what the game or story can offer.

Who knows what the next favorite will be, but today I reslish in simple statements like this:

"mom, feel this one" as he rubs it on my cheek "I love this smoothy shiny rock!"


  1. I love it when I come over and he runs to the door with a new smooth rock. "This is for you Grandma P". I slip it into my pocket and hope I remember to retrieve it before the dryer alerts me in no uncertain terms: "O-man is in the house."

  2. What a wonderful post! You are a great story teller.