The Best Day Ever

I never cease to be surprised by how children can be so hair-pullingly demanding one minute, and so heartbreakingly easy to please the next. The tension one gets from the whines and the tears can just as easily be erased by a spontaneous hug and a kiss, by a simple sentence delivered in all innocence.

It's so easy at times to say "No" to the seemingly endless requests made by a pesky (at times) kid, esp. when made in wheedling tones. "Later" becomes another pat reply. "Stop it or else" becomes a stock answer when parents get dangerously near the boiling point.

But how often have we stopped and put ourselves in our children's shoes? Are they doing it simply to test our patience? Do we think it's a let's-see-what-will-make-Mom/Dad-blow her/his-top game for them?

Or do they simply want our presence at that moment? Not the physical presence that's made up of listening with one ear while thinking of the thousand and one other things that need to be done before the day ends. Not the one that ends with Mom giving a vague answer to a question that she did not really hear at all, nor with Dad asking for a repeat of the lengthy story that was delivered with such gusto by the sweet little kid who only wanted to share the highlights of her day.

How many times have we stopped what we were doing, knelt down to ask what the little one wanted, and gave our undivided attention -- no straying thoughts, no interruptions, no hurrying -- to whatever story, question, joke or comment she happened to want to say? If we are the typical parents wrapped up in the myriad details of surviving in this day and age, much less than what we want, I would guess.

We get too wrapped up in "important stuff" like work and study and paying the bills and cleaning the house, that we lose sight of some of our children's needs that cannot and should not be replaced by material things.

My older daughter is actually ridiculously easy to please -- a simple cargo box becomes a play castle for her, or a camping tent, and she has been known to decorate it with colors and swirls and drawings to make it her own playhouse. A ribbon from a bouquet of flowers becomes a belt for accessorizing her dress-up costumes, or a headband, a bracelet, even a tail for a kite (whether it flies at all is of secondary importance). A spot in the golf course near our house becomes her "magic meadow", and is a place full of sunshine and happiness for her.

Sure, she's happy playing with Barbie dolls and stuffed toys, puzzles and board games. She derives great satisfaction in doing her art stuff, and is very passionate about books. But they're not everything to her.

What makes her happiest is Time. Time that Mama and Papa spend with her, whether it's swimming or walking around, baking or taking photographs, watching TV or going to the mall, playing games or reading books -- it is the time spent with her that she appreciates the most.

One lethargic afternoon during summer break, when the baby had been fed and was sleeping soundly, and I was enjoying my time off from work and having some "Me-time" in the living room just drowsily reading a book, my older daughter quietly sat beside me really closely and just leaned into me.

And just like that, I felt the need to put down my book and focus on her, to make her feel loved and wanted and appreciated in that moment, without distractions, without hurrying, without reservations.

And so I got us a flannel blanket, wrapped it around us, and hugged her tight. While sitting snugly together, cocooned in our combined warmth, she then said something that made my heart break and swell at the same time.

"Mama, this is the best day ever."

Don't our children deserve more moments like these?