My children make me happy for many reasons, of course. But it strikes me that one reason that they make me happy is that they encourage me to engage more deeply with the physical world.
Left to my own instincts, I’d drift absent-mindedly through the apartment, reading, writing, and eating cereal for dinner every night.
Through my daughters, I become much more alive to ordinary pleasures — the comfort of our weirdly soft fleece blanket, the vanishing sweetness of cotton candy, the textures and colors of the Play-Doh, scented markers, and velvety pipe cleaners left scattered around the kitchen.
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Good post.
I recently experienced one of those childish pleasures.
My dog started following me around the dining room table and I turned it into a chase by fleeing from him. By time we were done slipping and sliding I was laughing uncontrollably. Best time I’ve had in months. My dog enjoyed it too. I felt just like I did when I did it as a kid.
Earlier this week, a friend of mine and I were both having bad days. She invited me for dinner and I brought ice cream and crayons. I downloaded some mandala coloring pages for us to color. We had the crayons strewn all over the table and we giggled while coloring for 2 hours.
We also discovered that even in middle-age, we still stick out our tongues when concentrating on staying within the lines.
Great therapy!
I think there’s a lot to this. “Childish” is a word that has a negative connotation to many. But ultimately, when it comes to enjoying the world, they are the absolute masters. I think if the “adultish” word would be able to have fun the way kids do, we’d all be better off. Partly because we wouldn’t need to compensate our lack of fun with all kinds of distractions.