…and I get to tag along.

So graciously I spend my days quietly camouflaged in the background, making a peep only when undeniably necessary, contributing as little as I can in order to allow thorough investigation and wonderment for my boys.  I hover about clicking my camera and clacking my needles only pausing for the occasional, “I wonder”, or “I see”.  Gathering provisions and supplying proper gear tends to be more in line with my job description these days.

While I of course can’t resist the morning dance off’s (especially since my youngest seems to have quite the twinkle toes) and always have a say in the design of a proper fort; mostly I feel these little sprouts of mine do best and learn best when left to tend to their own business.

While there is no preschool vision on our horizon, lately I can’t help but think what sort of classroom these boys spend their days in despite a lack of four walls.

This sort of classroom.  This one of dewy mornings, and early evening crescent moons, of sticks and moss, dirt caked fingernails, the chattering of squirrels and moles and chipmunks, of teamwork and fights and cuts and bruises, of wagons and bikes and brothers and of course chickens.  Always chickens.

This one suits them just fine for now.

This world is a thing of pure amazement.  My mini Zen Masters point it out to me daily.