“It’s never too late to have a happy childhood.”             ~ Berke Breathed

 

Yesterday, I took the three grandchildren that live with me to the store in a downpour. I got them to hold hands in a big chain as we ran through the rain across the parking lot. All of a sudden I heard a splash and a chorus of giggles. All three had deliberately jumped in puddle just to hear it splash.

I couldn’t help but giggle with them.

At times if I dwell on the circumstances that led to the need for me to be so actively involved in raising my grandchildren, it makes me feel sad. I wish I had more control over my own life.

But that’s when I’m resisting what is.

The fact of the matter is they live with me. They need me.

And probably I need them too.

I need them to remind me to find something to be playful about every day. Whether it’s impulsively jumping in puddles or running in circles or jumping on a trampoline, the children remind me what it’s like to play and to have fun.

Because of them I can go places I probably wouldn’t go without them. I go to the pool much more often in the summer. We go to the park. Sometimes I get on a swing and for a moment can giggle like they do and abandon the stressors of my life.

We feed the geese. We watch Disney movies. We build puzzles and towers. We bake cookies.

And I realize that at times I am not teaching them about life as much as they are teaching me.

They are reminding me about the joy of each new day, where inevitably there is something new to discover and experience.

It’s kind of like experiencing childhood all over again.

It’s not too late.