Rocks

Some things are so primordial, so instinctive, so deeply-rooted, that they compel everyone, from the youngest baby to the oldest geezer. Food is one, of course, and sleep. Music. Then there are rocks. Most specifically, rocks thrown in water.

While visiting her great-grandpa's farm, DOB and brothers introduced D1 to the essential activity of Throwing Rocks in the Creek. One splash, and she was hooked. She spent the next half-hour crawling back and forth, hauling rocks to the water's edge and tossing--or, if they proved too large, shoving--them in. She learned a new word: "Rock!" (Actually, it's said, "Ahhck," which sounds just like "sock," but they rarely arise in the same context.)

I am happy to report that I managed to throw a rock all the way over the bridge and land it clear in the sandbar on the other side. Also I found a very nice fossil shell half.

D1 was so dirty by the time we got home I had to give her two baths in a row.