This nature stuff is overrated

One of the newest parenting books is called - well, I forget what it's called, exactly. There's so many to keep up with. But the gist of it is that kids today don't get enough nature, since their yuppie hysterical parents keep them hermetically sealed inside. So I thought today, since I'm still kind of stuffed up from my cold and not up for a walk, that I would take Jonathan outside and let him sit on the grass.

Chris has done a nice job with our lawn, which is green and dense and pretty weed-free. It's easy to weed a yard that's only nine square feet. I brought out a stool for me and plopped Jonathan down on a particularly nice patch. He didn't seem to think much of it. His hands stretched out to touch a few blades, but he decided he didn't want to do that. He kept looking up at me, and looking around at the bushes. After a minute or so, he raised his arms and started whimpering for me to pick him up.

I held him for a few minutes to let him get his bearings. Then I offered to let him stand on the grass while I held him. I thought that was a sure bet since this kid has loved to stand up since he was two months old. I held him under his arms and leaned over the grass. I lowered him down and kept expecting his feet to hit. But he was so unhappy at the thought of touching this green stuff that he kept lifting his feet higher and higher in the air. The minute his toes brushed the grass he was fussing again. I picked him up and he clung to me for dear life. Nature, schmature. I should write a book.