You know what I love, like really really love about kids?
I love the way they run like they are so desperately excited about where they need to get to that they couldn't possibly walk there, even if it is only the next room.
Last night Flynn came running into the room with a page full of words he had written all by himself, for no other reason that he just wanted to write down all the words he knew and show them to me.
It was just a jumble of words, some misspelled and others totally on the mark. Collectively the words made no sense whatsoever, but in his mind, they weren't written with the intent of making any sense.
It was his way of showing me how hard he is trying with his school work and just how far he has come. It was his way of making me proud of him.
Like he even needed an excuse for me to be proud of him.
Learning hasn't been all that easy for this free spirited seven year old. He finds all this school stuff much harder to get his head around than his brothers did. In fact he kinda of finds it all a little boring given that there are worms to dig up and mud to slide in and life to explore.
God knows there has been times when I have been so frustrated when after 10 or more times of me explaining something he still doesn't get it, nor does he really want to.
And so this page of jumbled words may not look like much to anyone else, but to Carl and I - they are everything.
Last night when he proudly showed me his work I squeezed him really really hard and told him just how proud I am and how clever I think he is.
Stuff these experts who tell us we praise our children too much. Too much praise? Pfft! Bite me!
The pure look of pride on his round little face, the way he puffed his chest up like a pigeon and the big happy gappy grin confirmed to me that no expensive degree qualifies anyone to tell a parent how much they should or shouldn't show their child how special we think they are.
He threw his arms around me and hugged me back twice as hard and gave me a big wet sloppy kiss before grabbing his scrapbook and running back to his bedroom.
His enthusiasm could be felt in every noisy thump of his feet as he ran and he left me equally enthused to thump excitedly between the day to day wins in my own life.
Made the beds before we left for school? Thump thump fist pump "Yessssss!"
Nailed that deadline and had dinner served on time? Thump thump fist pump "Whoooooo hooo!"
Got us all through the day in one piece and sanity intact? Thump thump fist pump "Yeeeeeeeww nailed it!"
Sometimes I think our kids know way more than we do about how to really suck the most out of life and that somewhere along the way to being adults we let the enthusiasm ebb away from us.
I want to find that balance where I place less emphasis on the structured boring bits in every day and give more attention to the worms and mud pies in life
I want to run with the same enthusiasm as kids do through every single day of my life. I want to feel that much joy in every step that I can't possibly walk from one thing to the next.
Flynn may have just written a page full of words that made no sense to anyone else, but to me they made more sense than any literary masterpiece ever could hope to convey.
There was a valuable life lesson in between the wonky lines of jumbled words.
And we adults think we know best?