One evening, I got to babysit the two-year old, Dustin. We played in the usual way until dark clouds moved into the area. We were in the basement when we saw the first strikes of lightning. I decided to open the shutters so we could view the lightning better. He watched with fascination as I commented on the lightning and the ensuing thunder.

I wanted a loud “crack” of thunder, but all we got were low rumbles. Almost complaining, I explained to him that we were just hearing “baby” thunder. He was intrigued with the word “baby”, so he repeated it, “Baby funder?”, he said. He couldn’t pronounce “thunder” although I taught him to stick out his tongue while he tried.

So at first we stood there and watched for about 15 minutes. Then I sat down. He promptly sat down between my legs and we continued to view the sky. Later, my bum got numb so I repositioned into a lying position. Dustin immediately did the same and suddenly we were facing each other in the dark lying on the basement floor.

As the lightning and thunder continued behind him, Dustin just kept looking silently into my eyes. Our eyes were locked on each other in the dark. Can you imagine? A two-year old…silent. We were just BEING. We were just Being and connecting with each other.

I realized the special moment that we were sharing and also that it would never come again. Dustin was teaching me how to BE present. He wasn’t bored. He wasn’t pre-occupied. He wasn’t wanting to be elsewhere. He was just plain BEING present…and he was completely content staring into my eyes with his Being.

Tear flowed down my face as I smiled at this wonder-child. What a gift to be able to share a whole hour of practical silence with my nephew!

Most of the time we are busy entertaining our two-year olds, not realizing that they have the natural gift of BEING, something we lose as we grow older and get busier and more pre-occupied with our “problems”. If we just let our children show us their beautry and wisdom, we would be much happier. Who would have guessed that a two-year old could be content in silence watching a storm?

I learned that lesson from a two-year old that night.

Dr. Karen Kan