Remember?

Remember a few days ago I wrote about the conversation Frankie and I had about joy?  Was it a feeling or could it be physical, too?  Yesterday afternoon I had an experience that convinces me it can be both, at the same time.

I was out in my front yard doing some work when I hear the little guy next door (in his back yard) yell at his dad.  "Hey dad, how do I get out of here?"  I could not hear his dad's response, but Patrick yelled, "I want to go visit the neighbor."

Pretty soon there's Patrick.  This little boy is smart, quick, and has a great personality.  True, sometimes he can be a pest, but my conversations are always delightful, and I'm amazed at all the information he has tucked into his six year old brain.

Today he is delicately holding a tiny black insect between his thumb and forefinger.  His parents had obviously taught him how to handle natures smallest creatures.  He announce it's a hopper.  I'm thinking it must be a grasshopper, or perhaps a cricket.  He is quite excited to share and encourages me to put it in my hand.  "It will hop." He says.

I spread my hand flat and he places the bug on it.  To my delight...it did indeed hop...it startled and surprised me and I give a hardy laugh.  This seemed to surprise Patrick, and we both laugh while the tiny creature entertains us.  Eventually the insect hops off his hand and and disappears into the grass.

Next we go through the barrage of questions.  What am I doing and why?  How come there is no car in my garage?  Where is my car?  How do I get where I want to go.  Do I go on vacation?  How do I get there?

Then I spy the spit of a spittle bug.  Ah, a chance to change the subject.  I point out the spit and inform him there is a tiny green bug hidden beneath.  We search it out. He wants one.  I thought he would look for it.  Instead he carefully places it off to the side, and I think he might be intending to show his dad when he goes home.

He announces he want to show me his weapons.  I say sure, and he shows me his 'stash', a long stick that he waves around like a sword, and two small, pointy twigs that are his knives.  I tell him he has a great imagination, and he gives me a look as if to say---"What?  Don't you see the metal shining in the sun?  I could do you bodily harm, old lady."

Next he produces a hunk of obsidian, I am quite impressed and ask where he got it, and proceed to tell him that Indians used to make arrow heads out of it, and that it was quite a treasure.  He disappears...guess we are done for today.  Minutes later he re-appears with a second piece of obsidian, and tells me I can have it.
I decline saying I have some in my rock collection, but he insists and I thank him profusely.

And so the time flies by while we chat about this and that.  Ladybugs, Mommy having a baby (he does not seem thrilled) and "What's your dog's name?  He can never remember.

Finally my work is done and I have to put tools away and roll up the hose "How many do I have, and why?"
I thank him for coming to visit and say I hope to see him again soon. He reluctantly turns for home.

Time spend with a child...now, that's Joy.