Tags
christmas shopping, family, learning from kids, life lessons from children, the good news, vesuvius
Sometimes kids show about as much restraint as a chocoholic in an un-chaperoned tour of the Hershey factor. Perhaps restraint is a character trait that develops along with crows feet and unsightly nose and ear hair. It’s just not possible for little kids to hold in what could be blown out.
Sometimes I wish had a little bit more of that lack of restraint.
Allow me to explain. A few Christmas seasons ago, on December 19, six days before the fall of the Holy Commercial Empire known as Christmas when everything shuts down and the stores get as quiet as Amish prayer meetings, we ventured out with all the kiddos in tow to do some shopping. Among the items on our intended purchase list was a scarf or some sort of accessory for our beloved baby sitter. We braved Costco and much of Target before finding the perfect scarf for Bailey. Well, to be honest, “perfect” probably is not the most apropos descriptor as the girls voted along party lines for which scarf to buy, making Carla function as president pro tem to cast the deciding vote, causing more tears by one of them then one would find at an onion factory. Alas, we finally purchased, went home, and wrapped up the scarf in a cute little box that my wife had economically bought after Christmas the previous year.
With the box sitting on our counter at home, we loaded up the kids to go pick up Bailey. Both Carla and I admonished and cajoled and cautioned and advised the girls to not say anything about the present, to let Bailey simply see it and open it when she got to our house. Alas, often times the best laid plans of mice and men . . . Within seconds of Bailey climbing into the van Avery shouted, “We got you a present; it’s a new scarf.” Vesuvius showed more restraint.
Once implanted with the knowledge in her head, the fuse started burning, getting to the bomb curiously just at the same time Bailey entered the car. What’s even more curious is that Avery, the girl who’s as perpetually sensitive as O.J.’s polygraph needle, didn’t tear up nor apologize. She simply smiled, excited to be the one to tell Bailey the news.
I need to be more like that. I know that I often times beat myself up for all the things that I’m not, but this is one flogging that shouldn’t be postponed. News, especially when it’s good news, shouldn’t be canned and stuffed away in the dark, dank basement of my mind. Good news is meant to be shared with everyone. Imagine a couple just arriving at their room in the maternity ward, toting a newborn girl who’s precious and as pure as breast milk. They’re completely eager to tell anyone and everyone they know about the new joy that’s theirs. It’s inconceivable to think that the texts and phone calls wouldn’t get started in record numbers.
And thus, I often contemplate the good news, wondering why I treat the gospel like my social security card, keeping it hidden unless necessary to bring it out.
I sure wish I had a bit more of my daughter’s bursting enthusiasm for good news. For the good news. Restraint’s not always a good thing.