At a First Communion luncheon we attended this weekend, I watched my children watching a magician perform. Max kept giggling. Ben was curious. Sabrina was interested, despite her jaded tween ways. I kept reaching for my phone, but when I saw how engaged they were I forced myself to put it down and watch.
Children have a way of making you live in the present. True, this is often because they need your attention NOW NOW NOW and/or they are whining, but it's also because you get sucked into their moments of fascination and joy. Suddenly, you're not thinking about the leak in the roof, the expensive treatment your child with disabilities needs or work deadlines. You are right there with your children, laughing at some guy's corny jokes and marveling over how he made a handkerchief disappear.
Max yanks me into the moment a lot lately because he is full of questions. This from the boy who never used to ask questions. What are we doing on Saturday? Is that dress new? Why did the birds make a nest on our porch? Did I do what Ben's doing when I was a baby? What time am I leaving for Las Vegas? (He is bent on visiting there for his birthday with Dave, mainly because he saw a video of some fire trucks there; this has nothing to do with his gambling problem.)
Sabrina draws me into the moment anytime she emerges from her room and wants to talk with me about something that does not involve shopping. #tween
The baby regularly draws me into the present. He is discovering stuff all the time now, and it is wondrous to see. He can climb onto the sofa! He can make wah-wah-wah sounds if he continuously claps his hand to his mouth! He has a belly button! Wow, Mommy and Daddy do, too! Look—a train! Look—the sky! Look—nostrils! This weekend, he realized that he could moonwalk! Or was he maybe just trying to walk backwards?
Watching him, Sabrina and I were fascinated, in awe and so in love.