Today’s post comes courtesy of Alistair Croll. Not only is Alistair a good friend of mine, but his daughter (the subject of this post) is one of my daughter’s most favourite people in the world. When I first heard this story, it simultaneously touched me and made me realize, I barely remember this stage.
It reminded me of just how fast it all goes.
Enjoy.
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Tonight, My daughter saw the moon. I mean, really saw it.
She’s a 17-month-old ball of urgent precociousness, just learning that the world around her has its own agenda. A few nights ago, she was out in the cold with her friend and nanny while my wife and I cooked supper. It was dark, in the early evening. The weather was cold and crisp, a beautiful Montreal January day. The moon was nearly full and the stars were bright, painting everything in a deep blue glow against the thin crust of snow.
She came in, and launched herself into the kitchen. She was thrilled, yelling “up!”, “moon!” and “big!” – too busy pointing at the ceiling to take off her big purple snow pants. She was utterly consumed by what she’d seen outside.
In the next hour, she insisted on going out back three more times to see the moon as it moved up in the night sky, each time, she yelled “HAPPY!” at the top of her lungs.
During dinner, when my wife asked her to describe the moon, she struggled for words.
“Up! Big! BIGGER!”
Then she stopped. Her body tensed up. She looked around, deep in thought, grasping.
Suddenly, she blurted out, “Double-big!”
Imagine what it would be like to suddenly realize there was a sky. How overwhelmed with a crazy, huge, life-changing idea you’d be. How you wouldn’t be able to repress this new notion, bursting from within. How you’d want to tell the world.
I think that’s what I just saw.
The wonder of it all!
I don’t know what age it is we start repressing our urges to shout out to the world when we see something so utterly fabulous it just has to come from within but that is a very sad day indeed. We can learn from our kids if only we just let go a bit and tried.