Kids

When I was growing up whenever I used the word “kid” to describe a child I was corrected. “Kid’s are baby goats, not baby people.” was often what I heard. However, this response never broke me of the habit. It was just another childhood annoyance for me. That and the whole “Can I?” vs. “May I?” thing. I know it’s correct to say “May I?”, but when you’re 6 and you have to use the bathroom you don’t always have time to ask the same question twice. You’ve asked permission and you’re standing there doing the little dance and your teacher says, “I don’t know…can you?” Now, if someone tried that today, I would probably offer to show them that I could, but at that stage in life I had a lot of respect for these authority figures. I would ponder with that little part of my brain that wasn’t concentrating on not wetting my pants and say, “I mean, may I go to the bathroom?”

Being a KID had a lot of drawbacks. There was always someone to tell you what you were doing wrong or what you couldn’t do. Always something you were too young to participate in or too small to perform. It seemed to me that there were endless corners that I couldn’t turn. I was always being ushered down the straight and narrow leaving me very curious, and to my parents credit, very safe. Being a kid had it’s definite advantages too, energy, the ability to eat whatever there was in front of me and never gain an ounce of fat, energy, tons of friends, and did I mention energy. Kids can run and play for hours and they’re still ready to take on more, and they’ll whine if they are made to take a nap.

Last night we were invaded by kids. The curious, the loud, the energetic, the cute, and the oh, so sweet. I watched them looking at things, saw the look in their eyes as they attempted to find out what this new item was. The parents were always ready. “Be careful.” “Don’t touch that.” “That’s not yours!” and the ever ready “NO!”. Owen, thus far, isn’t old enough for most of those phrases, but he has already learned, no, don’t and stop. Last night, he was pretty quiet, fascinated by the four older kids. The funny thing for me is that I watch these little kids opening doors and looking into corners and their curiosity is so familiar to me that I tend to just let it go. I like to watch them figure things out and I remember looking behind closed doors in other peoples houses. My mother would do just what the mothers did last night, she would say “get out of their.” I remember being called “nosey” more than once, but I always felt like that wasn’t totally fair. I wasn’t trying to see what they had or go through their things…I wondered where the door went. Is this a closet? Does this go down some stairs? Is there more to this house than meets the eye? How does this work? Now, when Owen is old enough to start opening doors…I am not going to just let him. I don’t want the kid who drives everybody crazy. May it never be said, “Quick, nail everything down or put it up on a high shelf…Owen Kelso is coming over.” I imagine that I will be just like all the mothers before me and every now and then he’ll be called “nosey.” For now though, when they’re not my kids, and it’s just for one night, I can enjoy their curiosity. Oh, the happy days to come.

What I love most is listening to them talk. The attempts at graciousness from a 5 year old and a 4 year old are as precious as anything you can imagine. If only you could frame them right at the moment they are attempting to tell you how much they like your casserole. “Thank you for the…(pause as they try to figure out what it is they are eating) chicken, Mary, it’s delischus.” Then listening to them discuss things with each other. The 4 year old giving the 5 year old a tour of the house was priceless “and this is a bathroom…Look Ethan, it’s a bathroom!”. Such innocent wonder and excitement. Oh, the happy days to come. I know I said that before…but this time I mean it.