Exploring

During a recent three hour layover at the Minneapolis airport, I spent a hunk of time watching a young couple and their twins, who appeared to be around 18 months old. I wasn’t stalking them, but I did make a point to keep an eye on them as they moved about the terminal waiting for their flight.

The first thing I noticed was the incredible amount of stuff they were hauling: a double stroller, two car seats, a diaper bag the size of a small foreign car, a second bag full of toys, and a few small suitcases. One parent handled the children and the other pushed a flatbed cart with all the stuff.

The second thing I noticed was the curiosity of those two toddlers as they tried to explore their strange new environment. They were curious about people. They were curious about the carts that zipped quietly around the airport. They were curious about the rows and rows of chairs at each gate—their gleaming eyes glowed with desire to climb on each and every one of them. They were curious about all the action outside the huge terminal windows. They were curious about the smells drifting from the various food venders and the lights and colors and sounds that pounced at their inquisitive little minds. They were curious about the long stretch of moving sidewalks meant to convey travelers through the expansive airport. They were curious about the periodic boarding and security announcements blaring through the air. They were curious about a young blind man maneuvering through the crowds with his long white cane and an old woman in a wheelchair. They were curious about an overflowing trash can and the man who came to empty it. They were curious about the tram that repeatedly shuttled passengers between terminals. They were curious about each and every wonderful thing that reached out and grabbed for their attention.

There was a problem. Mom and Dad were so busy transporting all the gear and wrangling the kids that they missed the twins curiosity and their desire to explore. To Mom and Dad, the airport was an unavoidable headache on the way to a destination. It was something to be tolerated, a necessary

evil, a big booger on their vacation pizza. The stress of it all was evident in their faces and it grew as time passed. In the two hours or so that I watched them, their patients grew thinner and thinner. As time passed I heard sentences with the words “NO”, “Stop”, “Sit”, “Quiet”, and “Shhhh” more frequently.

I also saw Mom and Dad try to entertain the twins with an Elmo DVD, some sort of keyboard that I am sure was a learning toy, and an assortment of battery operated gizmos.

The twins?

Well, they wanted to explore. They wanted to climb on all those chairs, ride that extraordinary moving sidewalk, interact with all those interesting people, and toddle back and forth in the huge terminal halls. They wanted to get to know this fresh, new, exciting, inviting, and strange new piece of the world. They wanted to do what all toddlers want to do—engage their environment.

The more they tried to explore, the more frustrated and stressed Mom and Dad became. It turned into a battle of wills that neither side could win.

These were not bad parents. They just did not understand that they were asking their babies to behave like adults and they were paying for it. If they had paid attention to the curiosity and need to explore that I spotted from across the terminal it would have been a much more enjoyable layover.

I wanted to step in, my hands on my hips and my stance wide, and say in a clear, powerful voice, “I’m a child care professional, and I am here to help!” Then I would sweep the kids into my arms and head off to explore the airport while the tired Mommy and Daddy got some rest.

That, however, would have been weird. It did give me an idea for a field trip—I wonder if I can afford to fly all the kids in our program to Minneapolis for a day long field trip full of exploring.