Author Spotlight
My entire life I have strived to be more like “the bigger kids.” When I was in elementary school I used to sit on my friend’s bed and watch with fascination as her older sister put on mascara and straightened her hair. I dreamed about my own days as a high schooler and wondered if I would ever be as cool as her. As a freshman on the cross country team, I listened quietly from the back of the running pack as the upperclassmen talked about their boyfriends and wild parties. In my mind, these girls were like gods. They had it all figured out, or at least I thought. Now, as a senior in high school, I can see they didn’t, and I willingly admit, I don’t either. In fact, recently, I’ve been trying harder to think more like a kid and less like a “big kid.”
In our culture we tend to value an adult’s opinion more than a child’s. Although this is partly due to respect, I also think that we believe that children don’t have enough experience to be intelligent. Although young children have no idea how to solve reverse integral problems (heck, I don’t even know how to do that) or where Dubai is located, I have found that they have a pretty good grasp on how to live life. Due to the excessive amount of time I spend babysitting, I have acquired a lot of “four-year-old wisdom” over my past seven years.
***
Lighten up.
This first piece of wisdom comes from one of the most lovable four-year- olds you will ever meet. Fletcher, standing at about three feet and perfectly dressed in a polo and corduroys, could be a kid straight from a Pottery Barn magazine.
One time when I was babysitting Fletcher and his younger sister Morley, he announced that he had a package to deliver.
“I wrapped this all by myself and I want to deliver it to my friend Pierson,” he said.
“What’s in your package Fletch?” I asked, trying to contain my smiles at the hodepodge present wrapped in candy-cane-striped paper.
“Something really special,” he said.
I didn’t question him any further, I just loaded Fletcher and Morley up for a walk over to his friend’s house. By the time we arrived, Fletch was beaming from ear to ear and could hardly contain his excitement.
He rang the doorbell and darted inside.
“Pierson! Pierson! I got you a present! I got you a present!” he screamed.
Fletcher didn’t even wait for Pierson’s response and he immediately started ripping open the package himself.
Inside the box was a collection of dried up and crusty brown leaves.
Oh no, I thought. What if Pierson is upset that it wasn’t a real present? I should have figured out what was in the box before we came. But, my thoughts were interrupted by a burst of laughter coming from both Fletcher and Pierson. They both found this present to be utterly hilarious and could not contain their giggles. This reaction baffled me. I then got to thinking about this situation. If only us “grownups” could handle things this way. We stress about not having the right present for someone or not being prepared enough for certain situations. If only we could just bring ourselves to give those goofy Christmas slippers or the marked-down Santa mugs, without worrying. Then we would know the joy of this four-year-old. After all, it’s the thought that counts, right?
***
Celebrate everything.
I hadn’t even unlocked my car door before seven-year-old Kate had tried to jump through my window to be in my car with me. When I finally did open the door, she was at my feet bombarding me with hugs and exclamations of “Emily! Emily! Emily! I’ve missed you!” Talk about feeling loved.
When I walked inside, I received another round of this celebration from the older sister, Lizzy. Lizzy then headed on to a birthday party and Kate and I were left alone to hang out for the rest of the night.
“I’M SO EXCITED. WE CAN GO TO CULVER’S AND THEN WE CAN WATCH A MOVIE AND THEN…” she said a million miles a minute.
“That sounds great, Kate,” I said trying to calm her down.
We then got in my car and headed over to Culver’s. As we were driving I glanced in my rear view mirror. Kate was singing along to every word of Lady Gaga’s “You and I” and had a huge smile pasted across her little face. She looked as eager as a kid on Christmas morning.
When we arrived at the restaurant and sat down in the booth she continued to talk excitedly about all the things we could do that night. In between her exclamations, she noticed a delivery boy that walked people’s orders out to their cars. Every time he would walk by she would wave fanatically at him and then duck underneath the booth and crack herself up. She was having the time of her life. And all we were doing was eating at a burger joint.
After an eventful evening of flirting with bus boys, eating waffle fries and watching “Camp Rock Two,” I put Kate to bed and thought a lot about how she had acted. Something as simple as going to Culver’s for dinner with me had put her over the edge with excitement. For most people, this would be a typical night–but not for Kate. To her, it was a cause for celebration. I think that I could get a lot more out of life if I approached it this way. I’m not saying you can be perpetually happy; the only people I know that can do that are the characters on “The Wiggles.” But what I do know is that we can enjoy the simple joys in life. Like a trip out to dinner. Or a good laugh. Maybe even an episode of “The Wiggles” (OK, definitely not, but you get my point).
***
Buck up, baby.
As I rang their doorbell for the first time, I had no idea what to expect. This was the first time I had babysat for this family, as they had just moved in. When they opened the door, I was greeted by two smiling, barefoot boys and an 18 month-old blue-eyed baby.
“Come up stairs, I want to show you my room!” the younger one, Austin, shouted.
I scooped up the baby, Jake, and chased the two boys up the stairs. When we arrived in Austin’s room, he grabbed Jake from me and they all started jumping on the bed. Jake bounced back and forth like a bouncy ball on a trampoline and I stared in amazement. The older boys continued to knock into him and he would topple over every time. But he didn’t cry or even flinch. Ever.
“Guys do you think this is safe for Jake?” I asked, clueless as to what a one-year-old was capable of.
“Oh yeah totally, he’s really tough,” Aidan, the oldest brother, answered.
“Tell me about it,” I said as I continued to remain in shock.
The rest of the night went the same way. We played hide and seek tag downstairs and the older boys ran circles around Jake, who occasionally had to dodge those two strawberry-blonde-haired bullets. Don’t get me wrong, the two older brothers were never rough with him; they were extremely loving and protective. However, I can speak from experience of having two younger brothers myself–boys will be boys. It just so happens that Jake is that much younger than his older brothers and had to toughen up at a young age. And I have a lot of respect for that little guy.
The lesson I took away from these darling boys is pretty obvious. When you get knocked down, get right back up into the game. As adults we often pull the “feel sorry for me” card, but it’s not necessary. In life, you get the hand you are dealt; what matters is what you do with it.
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