Jade's had a runny nose for the past little while. So have I, for that matter. She has been watching me use the facial tissues to blow my nose and has attempted it herself on several occasions. It's funny how much pleasure I get out of watching her learn little skills like that.
On Sunday morning, Jade, Nanuq and I took a walk to the local playground. On the way there, Jade stopped to examine some dandelions. The yellow flowers had long since morphed into white, puffy, fuzz-balls.
I plucked one of the fuzz-balls and blew on it, sending the little seed parachutes flying all over the place. Jade's eyes opened wide and she smiled and laughed.
I had used grand gestures to demonstrate what I was doing. I demonstrated one more, in a similar manner. Then, I plucked one for her to try.
She grabbed the stalk, pulled it toward her runny nose, and sniffed.
It wasn't a gentle sniff, like the kind one uses for smelling roses. It was the kind of sniff that clears one's nose of snot.
She pushed the dandelion head away and looked at it, wrinkling her nose. Sticking out of her nostrils were clumps of dandelion seeds, coated in snot.
If, at any time in my life prior to Sunday morning, you had told me that I would, one day, be pulling snotty dandelion seeds out of my daughter's nose, I wouldn't have believed you.
I used to think that I would have so much fun teaching my daughter about the world. I'm now realising that she has a lot more to teach me. For example? When it comes to toddlers, I now realise that I should always, always, expect the unexpected and that simple things aren't always that simple. Things can get lost in demonstration.