Easter came and went a few weeks ago, but I've yet to put my decorations away. I consider that more than enough of a loophole to actually write a little bit about such ancient history as "a few weeks ago." The holidays are getting a little more challenging for our little non-religious family. We're quietly finding the best way to answer questions like, "What is Easter, mama?" when we're not necessarily celebrating the same things as 80% of America. So, we explain (in as few words as possible since he is only 2-1/2) both the Christian story and traditions of our extended families as well as what might be considered the Pagan stories and traditions that the papa and I have found feel right for us. Both have their roots in the same themes--birth, renewal, the spark of life growing, budding and flowering--so it has been much easier than I think I anticipated.
Rowan's spring renewal came in the form of his very first haircut. We took him to the local salon where all the ladies doted on him. I know, I know, I surely could have given him his first cut myself since, as far as hair goes, he didn't have much. Well, lots on the top, not much on the sides. Basically he needed some shaping.
But, his first cut was already promised out. Four days after Rowan was supposed to arrive, I found myself itching to do something to keep my mind off new and strange ways to encourage labor naturally. So down to the salon I went for a quick trim and some conversation. The women giggled about how the salon had everything necessary should I go into labor then and there and I pledged my little one would have his or her first haircut at Soapothecary. And so he did. This is his I-got-my-hair-cut dance.
The best part about this spring is that Rowan has his very own garden. We went to the greenhouse and he picked out rosemary, violets, pansies, and a dahlia. He's so entirely excited to have his own little piece of ground (not to mention his own garden bag including gloves, tools and a "mystery" bottle--translation: misting bottle). I'm sure he's not the only 2-1/2 year old who knows what compost is and actually calls dirt soil, but I'm just amazed at what he picks up from us without prompt.
He's also a huge fan of The Tale of Peter Rabbit and insists that all gardens belong to Mr. McGregor. In fact, if you ask nicely, he would be happy to recite the entire story of Peter as well as that of Benjamin Bunny. But only if you ask nicely.