When my oldest was about 2, I began taking her on walks where I was not allowed to rush her, suggest we move on, use the words “hurry up,” or anything like that. And it was really, really hard. Every neuron in my brain would be telling me to keep the forward momentum going, and my daughter would be cheerfully oblivious to my distress, sitting on our neighbor’s parking strip, tearing a dandelion to shreds.
– Emma Marris, “Want to become an urban naturalist? Try trailing a toddler,” Grist (August 1, 2013)