Like a Child

I wish I could dream like my children. Their dreams are so attainable and are not weighted down by reason or worries about all the things that might not make them happen.

I wish I was as easily amused as my children. A milk moustache, little brother having a crumb stuck on his nose, mamma dropping a spoon so cereal splashes all over the floor. Little things that can be so funny to little minds.

I wish I could laugh like my children. Their laughter comes from a place deep inside their bellies, it rumbles through their little bodies and come out into the world with such vivid gusto.

I wish I found the world as intriguing as my children. The mailman or the garbage truck, the cat walking through our flower bed, the weeds on our front lawn are all exciting and new and worth their undivided attention.

I wish I was as energetic as my children. Running laps around little brother’s playpen, having races from the front door to the fireplace, jumping up and down endlessly just because it is fun.

I wish I was as easily comforted as my children. A gentle blow on a scraped knee and a kiss on the cheek will fix a boo-boo, a hug provides comfort after a tumble and a hand to hold can lessen the feeling of fear.

I wish I had my children’s imagination. The songs they make up, the pictures they draw, the tales they tell all have such intricate story lines and amazing details.

I wish I had my children’s sense of style. Their mismatched outfits, their tousled hair, their upside-down tiaras and shoes on the wrong feet are still able to always look cute.

I wish I had my children’s confidence. Whether it is their uninhibited dancing or they sing loudly while sitting in the cart at the grocery store, either way they possess the ability to forget or ignore that the world is watching.

I wish I had my children’s stamina. The amazing ability to keep up a tantrum at the store, the skill of digging their heels into the ground when they do not want to leave the playground, how they come up with question after question for the entire duration of a car ride and their amazing talent of finding a thousand ways to stretch out bedtime.

Sometimes I wish I could be like my children. Then I realize that I get to listen to their dreams and help make them a reality. I get to laugh with them and respond to their inquiring minds. I get to run around with them and comfort them when they get hurt. I get to enjoy all the songs and see all the pictures and hear all the stories they create. I get to worry less about which day is laundry day since they always find just the perfect outfit in their closet no matter what. I get to be reminded that sometimes it is ok to be silly, even if the world is watching.

And I have stamina too. I possess the ability to make it through the store and my list in the midst of tantrums. I have the skills needed to make going home from the playground seem tantalizing and exciting. I am capable of answering question after question to their satisfaction.

And though I might be exhausted at the end of the day, my children do eventually fall asleep and I get to go into their room and look at their beautiful little faces and thank God that I am the one who gets to be their Mamma.