Later we went outside and blew bubbles. He chased the larger ones trying to catch them before they popped. He stopped only to observe an interested squirrel seeking food before returning the safety of the trees. If you stop and think about it, how often do adults relish in the delights of something new? Every now and then, we may get a little jazzed up the two times a year we take a nature hike or visit an art museum. However, for the most part, we have the attitude of “been there, done that” and it takes a lot for us to take notice. I think that is why the entertainment industry is compelled to produce shocking programming – it’s the only thing that gets our attention.

Maintaining childhood wonder is almost impossible. However, one way to start is by being grateful. Grateful for the little things such as turning on a light, sending an email, or watching an airplane sour above. Maybe through our gratitude, wonder can be restored and appreciation renewed. Until that time, grab your kids (or borrow some if you don’t have any) and relish in their wonder. Watching their fascination will motivate you to find your own.

“Like in your stroller?” I asked. “You’re getting too big for your stroller.”

“Can we stroll without my stroller?” He asked.

Hmmm… I had a pile of mail to go through not to mention getting dinner on the table. But I thought about it and decided a stroll would be nice.

We went outside and strolled down the neighborhood. We stopped along the way to see if we could spot any caterpillars or doodle bugs. We took the time to stomp on some dead leaves and hear them crunch. We blew a few dandelions and took turns finding the biggest stick. We had no destination and no obligations.

I don’t want to wait until I am 80 before I go on another stroll. I want to learn from my children before a hip replacement results in something less than a stroll. Please God, help me never, ever, ever forget what is important. And, on the days that I do forget, persuade me to listen to the priorities of my heart rather than the details in my head.

They begged me to get in. The lake looked murky and I did not want to go through the painful experience of putting on a bathing suit for the first time this season. However, in my quest to participate rather than observe my children’s lives, I finally succumbed to the pleas and put on my suit along with a borrowed pair of outdated high-rise pleated shorts that went up to my boobs and my father-in-law’s tee-shirt that went down to my knees. Looking lovely I made my way out to the dock.

I stood there, looking at the cold, muddy water, trying to muster the courage to plunge. My son and his cousin Mindy started chanting “JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!” After six deep breaths and a quick prayer, I leaped while screaming at the top of my lungs.

As the frigid water consumed me, I immediately regretted my decision. I flapped around trying to get warm and to get to a place where I could stand. When I finally got my bearings, I heard the kids cheering. They were thrilled that I left the grown-up world for an instant and entered into their territory. As I stood there shivering and begging for a towel, my regret started slipping away. Yes it was cold, yes it was dirty, yes, it was uncomfortable, but, you know what? It made a memory. No I won’t regret it – even though I still smell a little like lake water.

Wet Head
As a child, I used to beg my mother to get in the pool with us. She would sometimes oblige and wade in waist deep. But that was not enough – “Get Your Hair Wet! Get Your Hair Wet!”, we would chant. One day, she completely surprised us when she finally succumbed to our pleas and completely submerged herself. I have to say, the moment was a little anti-climatic. I don’t know what I expected, but when she finally got her hair wet, it wasn’t nearly as exciting as I thought.

Now that I am a mother, I get the same pressure from my children. It is a HUGE deal for me to get my hair wet. Having hair like my mother’s, I now understand what a pain it is to get your hair wet and then restyle it before any neighbors see. Unfortunately, I am not one of those super model types that looks good with wet hair. In fact, when doused with water, I look more like a wet dog than a Sports Illustrated model. But still, in the spirit of being a “cool mom” I dive in the pool and spend the afternoon splashing around with the kids. All goes well until my youngest says, “Let’s get out, Mommy. You look funny.” I guess this experience was a little anti-climatic for him, too.