We were lucky enough to be home during harvest this year. One day, as P and I played trucks, a Huge machine drove past the house and P was out the door faster than lightning, tossing a "Come ON mama!!" over his shoulder.
We walked down to the barn in his little red wagon (it was late and he was "too tired, mama") and watched three guys haul ass heaving hay off of the enormous "hay monster." P was transfixed watching their hooked hands (they hold enormous tools "like Captain Hook!!!" to quickly grab the hay) capture and release the bales into neat piles.
Gramps soon joined us and gave us a ride to the back pasture for a slice of P heaven. There, a tractor followed the rows of cut grass and magically spit bales out the back. Then the "hay monster" (Gramps' name!) came around and sucked the bales up its conveyor to the lads with hooks.
P was mesmerized and curious. He's had a fascination lately with Being other things. ("Mama? What does it feel like to be a pig? I want to know. I want to be me, but also be a pig. To know what it Feeeeels like.") That evening he wanted to be hay. Not to die and disintegrate and feed the dirt that grows the hay (perhaps we've talked too much biology?) but to stay alive and still P, yet be hay. How could I do that Mama??? I made a silly comment about goals of transcendent meditation and ever since P occasionally quips "What would if fell like to - hey mama! I wanna mediddate. Help me meddidate?"
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