As we grow from childhood into adolescence, and adolescence into adulthood, we start to lose something.
Life has a twinkle when we're kids. It has a certain glow. Things are exciting. Waking up in the morning has some real purpose as a child.
Children are focused on play. They want to have fun and laugh. Adults put their nose to the daily grindstone, lacking the innocence and bliss once experienced as a child.
“Tell me about your day, Daddy”!
My daughter always asks to hear about my day, but she isn't looking for specific details about each one.
She consistently asks to hear about my day for one particular story. She asked me this question on a day that I happened to spill my coffee in my vehicle, staining my shirt on the way to work.
She loves the story, and I try to add just a little extra animation with every new telling. She laughs hysterically and then follows that with, “tell it again”!
My daughter doesn't care about all the details of my day. She cares about the funny parts. It's the laughter that gets her excited to hear another rendition of the same tale.
It's humbling. It's fun. It makes me realize that I'm not stopping to laugh enough. Too often I'm focused on the dreadful parts. The survival.
If I can just make it through that meeting. Or that phone call. If I can just keep my head above water long enough, I'll make it through another day.
But maybe my perspective needs shifting. If I take a chapter out of my daughter's book, perhaps I'll laugh at more “coffee spills”.
Adulthood feels like a series of challenges. I want to wake up and be a better version of myself every day. And every day her little ideas make me question everything I think I know about how to truly live.
Eventually I end up rolling around with her on the floor while she continually jumps on my ribs. It's her new favorite game that she appropriately calls “torture”.
Right then and there she seems to strip away my pride. She helps me simplify my thinking and shows me what it means to truly live.
Love it! (And "torture" haha.)