The Journal of an Honest Mom

While taking the kids outside to burn off the last little bit of energy before nap time, my toddler found a caterpillar in our garden.
And not just your average caterpillar.
No.
This was a fat, juicy caterpillar.
Actually… several fat, juicy caterpillars. Apparently the whole family had decided my pepper plants looked like a buffet.
He pointed.
He reached out to touch one.
Then immediately pulled his hand back because, well… it moved.
I laughed.
Then I started wondering…
When did we, as adults, lose the wonder of a child?
Everything is a big deal to them, even if it seems small to us.
A stick becomes a sword.
A blanket becomes a house.
Lawn chairs become trampoline rides.
An elephant in a book deserves a bathroom concert.
And apparently…
Caterpillars deserve an audience.

Somewhere along the way, we decided those things weren’t wonderful enough anymore.
We got busy.
We started thinking about laundry, appointments, dinner, and everything else waiting on us.
We walk right past the things our kids stop and stare at.
Motherhood has been teaching me to slow down.
To stop long enough to see what they see.
To laugh at the things they laugh at.
To find the extraordinary hiding inside ordinary days.
Because if I hadn’t been following a toddler around today, I would’ve walked right past those caterpillars.
Instead, I stopped.
I took a few pictures I’m oddly proud of.
And for a few minutes…
I got to see the world through the eyes of a little boy who thought a caterpillar was the coolest thing he’d seen all day.
Maybe that’s one of the greatest gifts children give us.
Not just the memories they create…
But the wonder they help us find again.