I hate the phrase: "You’re acting like children.”
It’s supposed to be demeaning. The source usually wants you to realize whatever mistake you made, recant it, and put yourself together to their liking. I think maybe they haven’t had the same experience with children, though, because if “acting like a child” only follows fits thrown, or sassy attitudes, you’re looking at kids all wrong.
I have a 5-year-old nephew and a 3-year-old niece, and I’ve never been more jealous of any two people in my entire life. It’s not because of the naps (okay, it’s a little bit because of the naps), the TV shows, or the endless chicken nuggets (what am I even saying, yes it is), but Beckett and Lilly have yet to be tainted by our world’s perceptions.
B is undeniably himself, and I hope he remains forever unchanged by my dirt. He has passion, and I know you’re thinking, 'What kind of 5-year-old has passion,' but just because it doesn’t fit the mold of a school system and he can’t write a five page essay on it, doesn’t make it any less legitimate. B loves dinosaurs. He names every kind and when I read him books about the Prehistoric Age he tells me when I’m pronouncing their names wrong. He wants to be a T-Rex because they are big and fast and strong and B can crush anything in his path. I’ll protect his bravery because his mind is a castle and a kingdom, and it shouldn’t be reduced to a drawbridge that only moves with permission.
B hates his glasses. Not because he doesn’t like the way they look, but because they make it a little harder to wrestle. The only judgements he makes are calculated decisions about who would win in a dinosaur race.
B has a lot of things. Happiness, a smile that can make you melt, sass, he has pride in himself with every little feat, and pride in his little sister when she learned to say the word “paleontologist.” He’s the best kind of friend because he has total disregard for my GPA, my diploma, the white space on my résumé, or my future plans (as long as they include playing outside with him). Sometimes the only thing that matters is dancing in the kitchen with Lilly and Me, singing all the words to "Let it Go."
He’s excited about every inch of his life. He can’t wait for kindergarten, but summer is really cool because he gets to see Grandma a lot more. We have smiles for fruit snacks, afternoons with the Kratz brothers for piggy back rides, mornings at the zoo, and blanket forts.
He doesn’t overthink. He gives hugs, he helps his little sister with her toys and he doesn’t forget to tell me how pretty he thinks I am. He’s honest, he loves animals, he’s an expert at putt putt, and sometimes he’s my favorite reason to get up in the morning.
I can’t help but think maybe we should all be acting more like children.
