Once there was heavy fog at our house. Kirby was four or five. He had never seen it at all, and this was as thick as I have ever seen fog. He wanted to go and touch it. I yelled "Let's go!" and we ran up the road, and ran, and ran. About seven houses up we got tired, and I said "Look" and pointed back toward our house, which was gone in the fog.
I did
not say "See? You can't touch it, really, it's touching us, it's all around us."
I didn't say "Let's don't bother, it's just the same wherever in there you are."
I let him experience the fog. He learned by running in fog and smelling it, and losing his house in it.
Learning to See Differently
photo by Sandra Dodd, of snow on plastic netting
This post first appeared in February 2011; there are comments there.