Why I'm Jealous of My Daughter

My daughter looks at EVERYTHING as if it was brand new.

It could be a tattered old box, or a broken toy, but her curiosity piques at the simplest things, at the slightest changes. Her brown eyes grow big with wonder, her vivacious voice silenced by what she’s uncovered, her mind clearly pondering the hows and the whats of what she’s just unearthed.

I could say that having a curious 2 year old is a gift for moms like me. Our children’s inquisitive nature buys us precious moments of silence. While they sit and tinker with the newest toy, we can get laundry done; or while they marvel at the texture of paint on paper, we could steal moment to go to the bathroom in peace, even a simple peak out the window can bide us time to tidy up our otherwise chaotic home.

And it does.

But this very silence, this very curious manner that my daughter has grown accustomed to, is the very thing that makes me jealous of her; because she still sees the magic in it all, the wonders of the simple, the fantasy in the ordinary.

And I just don’t anymore.

As an adult we tend to shed that side of us that relishes in the impossible. Instead we become practical and realistic in what we do and how we do it. We divide time unevenly—working more, playing less; we see things for what they are—a bad day at work, a house that needs cleaning—and not for what they could be—a learning experience, a chance to reminisce.

And sure, we adults have responsibilities, bills to pay, mouths to feed, careers to maintain. But it doesn’t mean our priorities should deviate from reality; to look at the world like a two year old—brand new and full of wonder.

Even for just a moment, why not stop and notice the intricate lines of the bare tree branches above or how the Christmas lights twinkle from every house around the block? Why not join our children in playing with cardboard boxes and forts made out of blankets? It can be hours, or merely minutes, but shifting our perspective for just a moment allows us to relish the time in it all. That somehow, by stopping and looking just a bit closely, we can slow the rush that we’ve grown accustomed to.

And it doesn’t take much— to see everything in a brand new light, to slightly blur the lines between reality and fantasy. Like our children, all we have to do is open our eyes to possibilities and appreciate the beauty in the ordinary; be thankful for its simplicity, be grateful for its existence.

If a two year old can do it, why can’t we?

Maria is a mother, a wife, and a writer. She’s an avid collector of life’s little and big moments, and enjoys chronicling her first time parenting adventures on her blog, Collecting Moments. In between play groups and nap times, she spends her time wishing for more sleep and willing time to slow down just a bit (she’s yet to be successful at either). You can follow Maria on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Google+.