I never stop being amazed by my daughter. Just when I think she’s reached the limit of what a child is even capable of, I find myself surprised and reestablishing my expectations. She is so kind and selfless and understanding. Yet, at the same time, she has this independent streak that both intrigues and frightens me. I can’t help but see myself in her: like a mirror that only reflects the best parts of whomever gazes into it. But I also worry that the less desirable parts of who I am will make their way to her as well. And yet every day, seeing her innocent perfection is inspiration to me to be an even better man.
One day 15 minutes or so into making dinner, she comes into the kitchen asking if she can help. She grabs her stool and pulls it up to the counter. She’s not just moving stuff around and looking for snacks. She’s tasting vegetables, seasoning foods, stirring bowls, and making sure that we have a well rounded meal.
Another day I’m doing laundry and she walks in with her stool ready to help. She doesn’t just want to throw laundry into the washer. She wants to know why I’m making so many piles. She wants to be able to make the piles herself. I explain it and she gets it.
She wants to be a part of life, whatever that life is. She wants to give. She wants to do her part. From the point of view of completing a task, she’s no help at all. I can do everything faster without her tagging along and making a mess out of things. But when it comes to living a life she’s incredible. She reminds me with every second that life isn’t just a list of things that need to be done and an ever ticking clock measuring off how many moments we’ve wasted not doing them. Life is living.
Just as the sun was setting one day we decided to go to the park. Bringing her parasol is an absolutely requirement. Along the way she notices the little things. She comments on the fact that there are dried, crunchy leaves on the sidewalk even though it isn’t autumn. I explained to her that the tree was sick and that it might die. She points out a flock of birds flying together and decides that they are flying in the shape of a fish. The swing is still her favorite. Higher and higher, faster and faster, each apex brings a new smile somehow bigger and brighter than the one before it.
That’s how this feels, this parenting thing. It feels like I’m a kid again on the biggest, fastest, highest swing ever made.