Evie said our walk was very boring.
“We’ve seen this fence, Papa.”
We had.
“And that tree.”
We had seen that too. It had not moved during the night.
I was wondering if our street needed a volcano when Evie suddenly stopped.
An ant was carrying a piece of cracker along the edge of the path.
She crouched beside it.
“Where is he taking his lunch?”
“I’m not sure.”
The ant climbed over a tiny crack. Evie held out her hand like a traffic officer.
“Be careful. Big sandwich coming through.”
For several minutes, we watched the ant. Evie wondered if it had children, if they liked crackers, and if someone at home had remembered the cheese.
I noticed that I was interested too.
A moment ago, the walk had seemed boring. Now we were excited to watch a crumb move about one inch.
Nothing on the street had changed. The same fence, tree, and pavement were still there. But we got caught up in this ants story we created in our thinking. And without knowing it right away, the same walk felt very different.
That helped me understand something. Evie really had been bored, but that did not mean the rest of our walk had to stay boring. We did not need to argue about it or make something exciting happen. There was still room for something new.
Eventually, the ant disappeared under the fence.
Evie stood up and brushed off her knees.
“Good delivery,” she said.
Then she looked up at me.
“Now we should check our kitchen.”
Watching someone else’s lunch had made her hungry.
Have you ever been sure something was boring, then suddenly become curious?
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