When is a picnic really a picnic?

Before Deborah's family came to the USA on furlough she sent me a video of Moriah asking a question: "Grandma, when we come to America can we have a picnic?"

Simple request to fulfill so I immediately sent a video reply; "Yes, Moriah, we most certainly can have a picnic, maybe more than one."

Several weeks ago we were sitting at a picnic table eating. I asked Moriah if she was having fun at our picnic. She quickly and most determinedly told me we were not having a picnic. 

I was confused but I didn't ask her to explain. She's three. We had food. We were outside. We were eating. That translates to picnic in my vocabulary.

The summer has passed in flurry of planned and unplanned events and travel. It is almost time for them to return home. Thursday evening when I was thinking about how to best spend my anniversary I thought about Moriah's picnic request. Friday morning, after breakfast, I asked her what makes a picnic.

She didn't hesitate.

"We need a blanket, we need a basket and we need good food."

I prefer a table. It is much more comfortable. But this was not about me. It was about fulfilling a promise I made to her.

This served as another example to me of how important it is to not hold too tightly to my preconceived notions. Of listening to what people say and asking for clarification when I am mistaken rather than taking offense and deciding they are wrong because their idea is different than mine.

I am thankful I didn't settle for what I thought was a picnic. I would have missed the sheer joy on her face as we gathered our supplies and later spread out the blanket on the ground under a tree. It didn't have to be fancy, it just had to fit her experience of what makes a meal a picnic.