A couple of evenings this week, my friend K and her family have had supper at my house. Their own kitchen is being renovated while K is 8 months pregnant and their toddler is busy being a two year old. Supper seemed like the least I could do to help out. I’ve enjoyed having them.
The fact is, I am utterly charmed by two year old D. She is every inch the two year old and I had forgotten just how much joy and wonder is part of a two year old’s existence. On Wednesday, D had a fidget toy that made a quirky sound and she was enchanted and excited by it, handing me the toy and waiting with joyful anticipation for me to stretch it out to make its sound, at which point she would laugh and laugh and then demand, “again!” We played the game again and again because that level of delight in such a small act is not be taken lightly. It’s a lesson in what matters, taught by a two year old who seemed to instinctively know what my sometimes weary and anxious 56 year old soul needed.
We should all be so lucky.
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