***Today’s post was written by my mother, who occasionally can be found commenting on my blog posts under the pseudonym “GRANMAMMAMAAAMAMAAAA,” or simply “Granmama.”  She has wanted to start a blog of her own for many months now, which is a complicated process for a person who doesn’t know what a Gmail™ account is.  She’s not dumb—she just needs guidance in most things technological.  Really, can you blame her?  I don’t know what I would do if Poor Kyle wasn’t such a willing tech guy.  Therefore I, being a slacker daughter, have not yet helped her start a blog.  What I have done is asked her to write a post for me this week, which she willingly did.  It has helped me immensely, inasmuch as I’ve been feeling somewhat uninspired lately.  So be nice and comment; I’d appreciate a warm welcome for her.  Please, let’s all help make her first foray into the blogging world a pleasant experience.  –Camille***

Through the Eyes of a Child

by: GRANMAMAMAMAMAMA

My first born in the wilderness saw life pretty much the way I did.  I understood her way of thinking, the things she wanted out of life and why she did what she did.  When my last-born, Camille, came into the world, she had a completely different view of life and how it should be lived.  Her engaging eyes were an easy target for innocent shoppers at the grocery store, who were minding their own business.  Camille’s fluttering, flirting, fast grin caused grown men to engage in goo-goo-ga-ga baby talk to this blue-eyed wonder.

If I pointed out the cracks in the sidewalk, Camille saw alligators hiding in the swamps of overgrown weeds on either side of the cement.  When we looked at the clouds in the sky she saw lions and tigers and bears, oh my! A bumpy washboard dirt road on the Hopi Indian Reservation was license to start a one-girl chorus of strange and unusual sounds.

Camille loved little bottles and shiny rocks.  Her goal in life was to become a famous mineral scientist who would find exotic diamonds to make into sparkly necklaces which would embellish her princess gowns.  She was fascinated with castles and royalty.

Books were her friends and words were her weapons. Favorite books had to be read, re-read, and read again. One time I entered her room to see 12 books spread out on her bed, each opened to a different page.  When I asked her what she was doing she informed me that reading one book at a time was too boring.  She had decided to read all twelve, one page at a time, to see if she could keep the plots straight in her mind.

My biggest mistake in raising Camille was introducing her to the literary classics.  She soon became infatuated with Anne Of Green Gables. As a mother I was thrilled that such a wonder-filled book was a favorite [notice the CORRECT spelling of the word] of my third grade daughter. Obsessively Camille read this book over and over again.  Soon she had multiple copies, numbering nearly ten.  When her dad and I bought her the movie for Christmas it was watched so many times we thought it would wear out.  Even Grandma was part of the Anne Of Green Gables infatuation—Camille would spend Saturday nights and Sunday after church at her grandma’s house, enthralled in the lives Anne and Gilbert.  She started to talk and think like Anne, and eventually made it a goal to live in Canada just like the heroine of the well-loved series. (I guess she got the coasts mixed up, since Anne’s story takes place on Prince Edward Island in the east, and Camille ended up in Southern Alberta in the west.)  I thought it was cute and a phase that would pass.  Look where this obsession landed us—Camille forever living in the land of the arctic cold!  Curse that Anne, Gilbert, and all their connections!

Camille sees life as a puzzle with pieces to put together.  Any new gadget we purchased had Camille figuring out how to install, use, and maintain it.  She segmented, classified, and sorted situations, people, and events to make sense of them. If something was hard to fit into its specified niche, Camille turned it a different direction or moved it to another location to make it fit into life’s puzzle.

Seeing life through Camille’s eyes has taught me to examine who I am and where I really fit into the giant scheme of mortal existence.  It has made me become a deeper thinker who tries harder to move the pieces and make them function. She has taught me to pull back, look outside the box, and say “Why not?”

Thanks Kayleen, for the picture.

This week I looked at the Arizona Temple Christmas lights through my grandbaby’s eyes.  His one year-old wonderment at the grandeur could only be captured in “oh,” after “oh,” after “oh.”  I am again seeing life in a different perspective, through the eyes of a highly intelligent, exploring, gigantic spirit captivated inside a little body that has become quite mobile but that cannot fully verbalize his intense amazement at this earth life.  He, too, will teach me a plethora of new points of view.  As I view the world through his eyes I will learn.  I can’t wait for the journey (and will make sure to burn all the remaining copies of Anne of Green Gables before he learns to read.)

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