Our firstborn learned to walk in the middle of a Chicago winter. I was home with him full-time, so, to survive, we had a lot of indoor adventures together.
One of our favorite outings was to go to the children’s area at the planetarium by our apartment.
During one morning at the planetarium, faint sounds of a choir carried into our area. I heard it, but stayed seated. My son lifted his face toward the sound, grabbed my hand, and ambled off toward its source. On the other side of the complex, we found a children’s choir and sat together to listen. He was rapt, turning away only to make sure that I was listening, too.
Attending to a child attending to beauty is a deeply remarkable thing. I am convinced that, in moments like these, we are invited to become like children.