My daughter Lainey is four years old and I love her. This kid knows how to stuff her pockets, collecting everything she can.
Last fall she had a monstrous leaf collection, which she kept in a grocery bag in the corner of her room until … it mysteriously disappeared one night. Last winter Lainey kept an icicle collection in the freezer until she ate one and dropped the rest on the floor crying. When the first warm spring day came along, Lainey noticed the snow was gone and focused in on the rocks that lay exposed.
“Let’s make a rock collection, Dad!” Lainey announced, nodding her head ‘yes’ vigorously.
She ran to her room, came back with a box full of building blocks, stood and dumped them all over the rug.
“Good box for my rock collection, huh?” she said, repeating the head nod thing.
“Too big,” I furrowed, remembering the bag-o-leaves. “We can only get three rocks.”
“Three?” She whined.
Bargaining is key. Start low.
“Okay, four.”
We bartered, happily settling at eight. Lainey ran and grabbed her lunch box for a rock case. We put on our jackets and walked out the door.
Initially bound for , the journey was cut short due to cold winds and a fast collector. Lainey found a few stones at the base of our neighbor’s tree and a couple cement chips near the curb. I found a nice piece of yellow granite (I think) and handed it to her.
“Dad!” she sighed. “Beautiful. A jewel!”
Lainey knelt in the grass and counted her stones aloud. She had a few extra and carefully discarded.
“Let’s wash them,” she said.
I followed her in the house to the kitchen. She pulled a stool over to the sink, climbed up, and turned on the faucet. She ordered the colander and rinsed the rocks, then dried them in a dishcloth one by one. She crawled on the counter and lined her rocks along the windowsill, to dry, she explained, in the sun.
Later Lainey put the rocks in one of her dress-up purses, where it now sits in her room. Maybe she’ll find them soon and paint them or carry them to the pond and toss them in. It’s a reasonable sized collection so I don’t mind it lingering. Now Lainey is more concerned about the tulips (I think) that sprouted in the yard. And so far she’s resisted stuffing them all in her pocket.