Grown ups must speak from outside, pass through snacks, crawl down low to whisper love. It’s not that grown ups aren’t allowed, in fact I think the children would welcome their large counterparts. They wish them to join in their fun, crawling, climbing, wiggling, through small spaces. They want to create their own world but they don’t exclude us.
Even though we seldom crawl into their special places, those hidden nooks, the snugly crevices, we can remember what it was like, feeling so fundamentally safe and warm and protected. It’s a good feeling, why wouldn’t our children want that. I want that. There’s plenty of time to be out here in the real world, but to be in cocoons, that’s finite.
So, when I walked in and saw the blankets and pillows strewn about, when I saw books holding the corners of a sagging yellow blanket, hung precariously from chair to table to another chair. I laughed, I smiled. And then I served grilled cheese sandwiches to hungry little monsters hidden deep inside these dark caves of comfort.