I’ve found an explorer in him an independent, unbiased and inquisitive adventurer.

It might be premature to call him a philosopher yet only on the account of him staring, perhaps thoughtfully at the banana tree in the front yard, birds on that tree and airplanes that whiz past way over that very tree.

He might still be thinking over those stimuli and I await the vocalization of those thoughts. I’d love to have a philosopher son some years down the line who would talk about Plato, Socrates, Nietzsche and the likes with me or even elucidate the latter’s less-understood existentialism.

But for now to a heart’s content I see him wander, wonder and giggle over his serendipitous discoveries.

Not always serendipitous though. He seemed peeved and spooked upon being barked at after feeling Sheru, the dog’s tail and was injured after shutting the door with a tiny tip of his finger getting squeezed.

He combines the previously uncombined; like his grandfather’s looking glass tucked into his very own socks. Peek-a-boo has become a walk in the park for him for he knows every hideout.

He must be disappointed though as he has already run out of further areas to look for; no nook and cranny have been left out.

He nevertheless seems as pristinely excited as ever another day to tread what now may already have become well-worn paths to him.

Upon being asked the whereabouts of things which he’d have already classified as his findings, he goes one step further to bring them to you, gives them to your hand if they are catchable and reachable.

Some of the things he has exuberantly fetched as of now are a TV remote, a mobile phone, Grandpa’s looking glass, his aunt’s hairclip, his mama’s shades and papa’s wallet not to mention his own massage oil.

Things unreachable to him are pointed out with the accompanying incoherent umm sound: the family portrait hanging on the living room wall, a lit light bulb and what is presently to him a very distant light bulb by the name of chandrama (moon).

There would be a plethora of things to explore as time goes by and once he comes up of his age to venture out of the confines of his home but I wonder if he’d see all that he sees now with the same delight and vigour.

Perhaps not! The age of his innocence is fleeting and is thus to be cherished.