For a moment, a child

I love children. Children do not laugh at you when you don’t fill your water buckets all the way to the brim. Children do not question your ability to start the charcoal stove. They assume you are like any other adult who will have it going in no time. And of course you will. 

They do not sit and stare at you. They’d rather be asking questions, helping, playing a game or doing something interesting.

The young kids around our neighborhood who frequent our house  are usually between the ages of 2 and 10. This is the perfect age. The wonders of the house and the activities going on within are endless, but the way they look at you is not much different than the way they’d look at anybody. They leave the house twice as dirty as it was when they came in, but their smiles make it worth it.

The children do not stare or make rude comments. They don’t discuss how weak you are or assume you don’t know how to cook, clean, or plant a garden. The adults have endless opinions and sometimes discouraging commentary on how you do things - whether it has to do with watering the garden or putting your hair up.

One day all these little kids will grow up and probably turn out just like their parents. Making ignorant, ridiculous assumptions, sometimes saying hurtful things, mostly unintentional. Staring at anything that doesn’t fit into their world, questioning the validity of something (or somebody) that isn’t part of their “normal.”

But for now, they are just children. They are innocent, and have not yet learned to be like their parents. 

They live life and enjoy the fun of making peanut butter and reading stories and watching Shaun the Sheep, crowded together in the living room with a fan blowing on them.