I’m too big.
With Cole’s birthday came the arrival of our first wave of “big things” that occupy square footage in our house. There’s a climbing play structure, there’s a ball pit, there’s a water-table-slash-picnic-table, and now there’s a playhouse.
And I’m too big for all of them.
It’s not about me wanting to play with those things (well, except the ball pit), it’s about me wanting to play with my son. He climbs the inflatable slide into his ball pit, finds some balls, and rolls them back down the ramp. He has great fun and doesn’t seem to mind being alone in there. But as I watch him playing, I think to myself, “I bet that’d be more fun with two!”
We fill his picnic-table top with water (it’s a water/sand table, but we only use it for water right now) and set him down at it. He has a GREAT time, splashing around. I can sit on the deck next to him and splash, too, and that’s even more fun. But the table has room for 4! And I’m too big. And small as Alex is, she’s too big, too. I can’t help wondering as I watch him, if he’d have just a bit more fun if there was someone else close to him in size and age on the other side of the table, competing with him for the biggest splashes.
After assembling the playhouse (a fairly small Step2 affair), I put him in and he sat down on the floor. For a change, he looked very peaceful! Just sitting there, looking out the side (can’t really call it a “window” but it sort of is I guess), enjoying a moment of stillness in a pretty cool little fort. There are two “seats” and a wee little table. Frankly, I think he’ll always be a bit too big for those seats (he’s a big kid!) but there they are. And as I kneeled down, on the outside looking in, I thought to myself,
“I’m too big. Love to join you in there, but I’m just too big.”
Here’s what I have to look forward to, though: as he watches his mom and dad doing their own things in the world, he’ll be thinking to himself, “That guitar is too big. Real road bikes are too big. Those real hand tools are too big.” But one day they won’t be. And with any luck, we’ll have some shared interests, we’ll be able to kit him out in ‘real’ stuff that’s just the right size, and we’ll have some quality time to spend together.
As he grows, there will be some sad times as he outgrows favourite things that have produced fond memories (“It’s time to retire the ball pit… he’s just too big!”). And soon enough he will have more little friends running around in here that are not too big to share playtime with him. Until then, I should be (and am!) happy that although I’m too big to join him in his house or his ball pit, I’m not “too big” to be simply delighted to be around him while he’s having a laugh. 
