Budding Geologist

Daniel loves rocks. He cannot walk past one, not even the tiniest pebble, without stooping to pick it up. Which means that his pockets are full of them, and you can't go far in our house without stepping on one. Every once in a while, he'll find a rock that is special. To the untrained eye (everyone but Daniel, and maybe Lincoln), it looks like any other rock-- could even be a chunk of concrete or asphalt. Anyhow, when he finds that special rock, he won't let it go for anything. A few days ago, he had a smooth, flat pebble that must've fit perfectly in his (not so) little fist. He managed to hold onto it through snacktime, playing with his racecars and legos, and chasing his brother. He put it in his pocket for dinnertime, but pulled it out when he was done eating to draw on it with a piece of chalk. When bedtime rolled around, there it was again, held tightly in his hand-- he insisted on falling asleep with it.

When I first noticed his indiscriminate rockhounding tendencies, I caught myself thinking that we should get some rock books from the library so that I could teach him which rocks are "officially" special, and encourage him to collect only those. The more I think of it though, I want him to hang on to his ability to find value and enjoyment in everything he sees, even humble little chunks of asphalt.