There’s a loveliness about children that transcends cute smiles and heart-warming voices. It’s perspective. Their perspective. And it reminds me that, all too often, we forget to check ours.
It could be the middle of the most perplexing election season in thirty years, and your child’s fascinated most about the old bottle papaw found while digging in the garden. Who’s was it? Did it have medicine in it? Did you drink out it when you were little, daddy? Or, during a cold March, and subsequent unexpected winter storm, your child builds snowmen. And you come home, chuckling when you pull in the driveway to see your old work hat atop mounds of snow with gloves sticking out each side.
As adults, we’re caught up in other worlds. Not the fictionalized worlds we read when we were young, or those we read to our children and encourage them to read. It’s work, and PTO board meetings, and church budgets, and paying mortgages, and fixing cars, and selling Girl Scout cookies, teacher conferences, helping neighbors. Why we concentrate solely on those sometimes so-serious tasks, skipping snow play, the fun in our backyard, we don’t know. Old brains maybe.
What we do know? We need children to teach us how to find a new perspective, how to turn our head away from grownup things once in a while. We need to make a snowman in March.