Just Say Yes

Smashing sandstone rocks into bits is a very gratifying thing to do, according my son, Oz. Poking at a giant ant hill with a stick, investigating a dead crab on the beach by ripping it to shreds, and damming up a trickling vein of a river are also at the top of his list.

My family spends virtually every summer weekend camping. We are usually with other families, and by profession, I am often looked on as the moral authority on outdoor etiquette for five-year-old boys. With adults, Leave No Trace comes easily. Balancing the unique joy and outdoor discovery of little kids, on the other hand, requires unusual creativity. It seems as though it would be easy enough to stifle any kid’s desire to be outside by laying a heavy handed list of rules on him. On the other hand, kids, like adults, like to be in the know.

Just this year, I see my son beginning to subtly change his relationship with the natural world. In turn, I have become more comfortable saying yes to many of his methods of discovery. Then, on the back-end, I search for opportunities for him to learn more about his environment. I am well aware that that this is not yet perfection, but it's a start, especially for a young child.

For kids his age, I say: Build the dam, then dismantle it when you are done with your fun to help the flow of the river. Or the approach: Even though those things you are squeezing looks like blobs, they’re sea anemones, meat eating animals, just like tigers are. What do you think the squeezing does to them?

I saw the beginnings of a sense of compassion and respect as he was catching grasshoppers at our campsite in Wyoming a few weeks ago. He and his friend, on their own accord, instituted a groundbreaking grasshopper catch-and-release policy. Though a bit remote and merely a metaphor for bigger things, I was thrilled.

I had less success in the Utah desert over the weekend. As I stood watching his incredible satisfaction cracking and pulverizing rocks into sand, I began formulating my speech, “Blah, blah…respecting the natural environment in its pristine state…blah, blah…” I realized he probably didn’t know what the word “pristine” meant. Also, these were recycled sentiments from my morning monologue about the humble temple that is the ant hill. The connection little boys have with smashing rocks can seem almost metaphysical in the moment. I’ll have to give this one some thought and try again next summer.