My kids don't do anything halfway. Particularly my youngest son, Grant. Grant is 2 1/2, but he doesn't believe in halves, so he'll tell you he's 3, or 5 depending on how old he thinks he needs to be to accomplish his task. When Grant was about 12 months old, he decided he didn't like the fact that no one understood him when he cried, so he started talking. I don't mean babbling dada or mama. The kid started throwing together phrases the best he could. We'd hear "more macaroni, mom" and look for Wilson, who had likely already left the table as that child doesn't eat. So that left baby G in his high chair looking at us expectantly. As he's gotten older, and more talkative, his drive has only increased. When he wants a treat, usually a marshmallow, he will try every adult in ear shot until he gets the answer he's after. If all else fails, he'll scale the shelves of the pantry, risking life, limb and goldfish crackers in pursuit of fluffed sugar.
Grant is "all in" all the time. When Grant tries to jump he squats so low his Buzz Lightyear Pull-Ups brush the hardwood before he reaches for "infinity and beyond" ("beyond" is typically about .5 inches off the ground). When Grant decides to sleep the Boston Pops could play the William Tell Overture from the top bunk and he probably wouldn't budge, but at the crack of way-too-early he bounces on our bed with a smile and a "Mommy, Daddy,get up! It's brebast (read:breakfast) time!". When Grant is awake, he is fully awake, he doesn't miss a thing. (Mommy I saw you hide the marshmallows in the closet behind the cereal)
What I find even more fascinating than my two year old telling me I have to be nice to him or God will spank me, is that while I'm trying to teach my boys right from wrong, peeing in the toilet instead of the shower, there are some things I didn't teach them at all. I rarely give anything 100%. Not like Grant does. I sleep with one eye open. I'll ask for what I want until the asking wears me down, if I even ask at all. When I jump, I might ask how high, but that's as high as I'll go. Infinity isn't in my everyday vocabulary. It takes two cups of coffee for me to form a coherent sentence, and a full breakfast followed by a long shower before I manage a smile.
Grant's enthusiasm is infectious, but it doesn't come naturally to me. I want to be more like my sons. I want Grant's dogged determination and Wilson's boundless energy. As I said, I didn't teach them these things, so where do they get it? All kids are like that, you say? Okay, where did THEY get it? There's a bit more to the verse where Jesus tells us the God has "hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children."(Matt. 11:25)if ya ask me. Jesus goes on to remind those who are weary and burdened to lighten their load.
God told my children, your children, a secret. It's the reason for their energy, it's the reason they'll jump on the bed even after they've just fallen off. But this isn't Neverland; it isn't Eden. Eventually, sadly for some sooner than others, someone will tell them what they heard wasn't real. They'll be reminded that good little boys sit still. They'll be told that marshmallows rot your teeth, and that infinity goes only as far as finite mathematics. The secret will get buried in their heart like it is in mine. And someday when they have children of their own, they'll be reminded of the secret long forgotten. Maybe they'll remember and learn from their children to pursue life instead of survive it.
For now, my sweet baby boys, wake me in the morning, jump with all your might, and the marshmallows are on the bottom shelf. Help yourselves. That's why God made toothpaste.
