Signs of Finn

We all have special signs of spring or fall that we look forward to. Any visitor to my house today would see signs of Findlay.

The magazines have been pulled from the basket beside the rocker in the kitchen and strewn over the floor. In the living room is a shoe horn he got from our bedroom and tossed aside while I read to him. In the hall is a large plastic envelope that he enjoyed pulling by its string fastener. The small kitchen items from the children’s play area in the kitchen are by the door, window, and refrigerator.

These are sweet signs, showing the curiosity and short attention span of a 15-month-old. He’s wonderful at entertaining himself, so I can just go along for the ride. At times, he talks in his own sweet gibberish, and I feel compelled to answer with a series of “Really?” or “I guess you’re right” or “You don’t say!”

Play dishes in the stair well by the back door and ark animals in the rocking chair. Could putting them behind the posts of the rocking chair have anything to do with his visit to the zoo yesterday? Our zoo doesn’t have many animals behind bars, but there are a few. Of course I interpret this as brilliant and perceptive.

There’s the changing pad on the guest bed with diapers and wipes nearby—also signs of Finn’s presence. And the spilled dirt on the floor where he pulled a stem of my airplane plant a bit too firmly.

But now he’s gone home for the night with his sweet and loving daddy, and the house seems a bit lonely without his energetic little figure roaming around, investigating and commenting, squealing and laughing. I can’t get too nostalgic, though, because he’ll be back to do this all over again tomorrow!