My daughter will listen to a song she enjoys, telling me—"again"—the moment it stops, over and over, easily 20 times in a row. I start the song again, letting her attention be the guide for my own, listening for the place where it tells us to make a pirouette, wondering how many times we'll dance it. Then, all of a sudden, she decides she's had enough. Nowadays, she often tells me, "Now I am done." One thing that intrigues me is how she can wholeheartedly want to repeat the same thing, without thinking about whether she ought to be doing something else, and then stop with the same conviction.
To me, the song is already familiar, containing melodies and harmonies which are worn to the point of cliché, while to her those same sounds are mysterious phenomena, inviting her to move her body. Because we go until she’s done, I get to see that the point wasn’t repetition; it was doing something for as long as it was fun. I think the reason for this trope about toddlers liking repetition more than adults says more about us, than toddlers.
While she plays with the sand, I'm thinking about that invoice I need to draft and send, a thought that takes me away from the moment. If I snap back, I can sort of ride along with her attention instead, imagining what this world that contains sand that runs through her fingers is like to her, reminding me in the process that it's actually awesome. Her attention is a light that illuminates everyday things I've started taking for granted: birds flying around in the sky(!), the feeling of raindrops on my head or that mystical wind which blows off my hat, making my daughter burst out laughing.
Other times, the thought enters: “Maybe we should play with something else now, to learn more.” But that would turn play into an instrumental activity, something done for the sake of something else, and thus ultimately defeat the whole purpose. Playing is fun because you are in the moment. Meta-commentary works against it, making you self-conscious, and for adults it can turn something innocent into an existential question: "Why am I even doing this? What's the point?" Being with a toddler means hanging out with someone who completely lacks that kind of idiot voice in their head, someone who reveals that voice to be a total clown. I wanted to manage her attention, and there was even some jerk in my mind who wanted to manage my attention, and I listened!
If we don't manage their attention or our own, I think we learn the truth about toddlers and repetition. We think repetition; children are discovering the universe. They wake up in a world of wonder and get totally immersed in what it contains. "What is this weird thing I can run through my fingers?" "Wow, what a long and fun pointy thing; let's wave it around." "Lol, this makes a sound when you shake it." I think they find themselves in paradise, and the trick is to borrow their attention; then you find that you are also in paradise. But your version of it comes from seeing your child, that infinite being who just roams around looking for a nice stick.