Vocabulary is such a funny thing. It’s shaped by our experiences. It can be highly specialized based on where we live and the people we encounter. And it varies based on our context.

I grew up as the daughter of two teachers. So I knew about principals and professional development and recess and cafeterias and homework before most kids even thought about starting kindergarten. And because there was a catalpa tree in our backyard, I developed an early understanding of seasons and caterpillar life-cycles. And I learned about land development as I watched my neighborhood change while I grew up.

This was my experience and my context.

But at age 29, I struggle to call a “balaclava” by its proper name…instead of “baklava.”

Every day, I am surrounded by tiny human beings that have a strong command of snow-related language…and even the ability to maneuver on snow (I’ve fallen three times in the past week). I think that’s the thing that has surprised me the most in this new job. They don’t bat an eye at putting on 3 + layers of clothing to go romp around in snow.

And then as they romp, snow covered trees become school buses or space ships or rogue pirate ships preparing to land on a beach. They’ll spend 20 minutes hitting branches against a tree and then comparing their branches to see which one is larger. Empty milk crates become shields for baby bushes or parts of a train or steps to get on top of [insert taller object]. And when you ask them what they want to be when they grow up, someone is bound to say “ski racer.”

Of course – there are all of the typical preschool-aged problems. Initiating play. Not knowing how to express our feelings. Naptime (it might be the death of me). And today, I had to intervene between two toddlers when one of them decided to weaponize a plastic sled.

This is all part of the territory. And I will savor every chaotic, ice-cold moment that’s ahead in this newest adventure.