Worms of Wisdom

The thing is, Mateo’s got this whole fascination with worms. Not like, a polite observation of them wriggling in the dirt. He *collects* them. Little tiny ones mostly, but he names them. Bartholomew, Silas, Penelope… It started subtly, a few extra minutes spent poking around the flowerbeds, but it’s gotten intense. My wife keeps saying I should be encouraging his curiosity, and I am, sort of. But there's this part of me that just...wonders where it all ends. Like, will he be naming pigeons next?

It’s funny, though, isn’t it? How these kids seem to just *know* things we didn't. Chloe asked me the other day why clouds aren’t made of dirt. Seriously. She explained, with this serious little furrow in her brow, that gravity is what keeps them up there. Gravity. It wasn’t a lecture, not really. Just… an observation. A fact recognized and articulated without needing a grown-up to spoon-feed it.

I keep thinking about that whole “building a muscle” thing I was wrestling with – trying to force myself into this state of intense focus, like if I just grit my teeth hard enough, the answers will appear. It’s exhausting, honestly. And Mateo, he just… exists in these pockets of attention. He'll be completely absorbed building a tower out of blocks, or meticulously arranging pebbles by size, and it feels almost *wrong* to interrupt. Like pulling him away from something vital.

It’s not about the worms, exactly, though Bartholomew seems particularly important. It’s about this realization that maybe I was looking at concentration all wrong. That maybe trying so hard – that feeling of needing to *will* myself focused – is actually just getting in the way. These kids, they seem to operate on a different wavelength, responding to rhythms and curiosities instead of deadlines and expectations.

And then there's the therapist talk. It’s something I still think about sometimes. Mateo brought it up last week—just casually mentioned he was "talking things through" with Mrs. Rodriguez, his tutor. No awkwardness, no shame. Just...a normal conversation about feeling frustrated. It shifted something in me, you know? Like, the idea that seeking help isn't a weakness – just another way of taking care of yourself.

I found myself thinking about my own mornings, about how easily I get caught up in trying to get everything done before the bell rings. This whole thing with Mateo and the worms—it’s like he’s teaching me to let go of some of that pressure. To find joy in the small things, the unexpected turns. It’s easy to get so fixated on outcomes, on ‘progress,’ that you miss the actual experience of *being* somewhere.

It makes you think about what we tell them, too – this whole “respect for the earth” thing. The kids here are genuinely concerned about it. They're not just saying "recycle" because their parents told them to. They actually *see* it. And it’s making me re-evaluate my own habits, my own little bits of wastefulness. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most important lessons come from the youngest voices.

Honestly, I think what they're doing is just...braver. Not necessarily smarter – although, let's be clear, Mateo *is* brilliant – but braver. They're willing to question things, to challenge assumptions, without feeling like they have to conform to some unspoken rule. And that’s a pretty valuable lesson for anyone, really.