My boys spent the better part of an afternoon playing with a drain hole. Not with toys, not bouncing in around in the shaded float I bought for my one year old, but pouring water into a drain hole and removing the cover. And they were absolutely delighted by it. A simple activity. Two brothers. Nothing but smiles and giggles.
Here’s the thing. I want to bottle up that joy. That contentment over something so small and mundane, and store it forever.
We grow up and we forget to take pleasure in the every day. Waking up in the morning to a new day. Hearing a hummingbird buzz by your ear. The smell of the foliage after the rain storm. We get lost in the deadlines and the bills and the cleaning and laundry and we forget to breathe and take a moment to slow down, rest, and take in the unordinary that has come to seem ordinary.
My boys have more toys than they can play with, access to more cartoons than they can watch in a day, and three sets of grandparents to spoil them. But what makes them happiest, what makes them laugh until they are breathless, is when I am a kid again. When I chase them around the back yard, play hide and seek with them, and act so silly I forget my age. I hear the endless cries of, “Again, Mama, again!” and although they wear me out completely, it is so worth it.
I need more of those moments. Because they grow up so fast. Too fast. I blinked and my oldest son was five, blinked again and my youngest will be two in a few months. God, help me to push through the tiredness and enjoy these minutes, these hours, when my kids are small. Tomorrow they will be older. Different. And a day closer to being an adult.
“Let all the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”