My friend Sharon, a mother-of-three, has a theory…
She thinks every adult has an age that they’re especially good at with kids. Maybe it’s wriggly babies. Maybe it’s goofy toddlers. Maybe it’s earnest five-year-olds. Maybe it’s curious 10-year-olds. Maybe it’s having heart-to-hearts and debates over dinner with teenagers.
Over the past few years, I’ve thought about it a lot. (It’s one of those random thoughts that floats through my mind every few weeks, do you have those?) Some of my friends love newborns, but I get such bad anxiety during the newborn baby phase that I don’t think back on that period with any great nostalgia. But I LOVE the chatty kid stage that Toby and Anton are in right now. The imagination, the wackiness, the sweet, sweet, sweet sincerity. I love how they still think Alex and I are the coolest people around (at least most of the time), and they say such beautiful childlike things. (The other day, Toby and I were on a walk, and I overheard him whisper, “Hello, evening. I missed you this morning.”)
I am also not a huge play-er. I find trains and Magna-Tiles mind-numbing. But I love love love love talking and reading books forever and taking pajama walks and going out for pizza and telling stories about when they were little and chatting while they’re in the bath and rubbing their backs when putting them to bed. My mom always says, “Take their worries and joys seriously,” and I try my best to do so.
What about you? What age do you think you’re particularly good at? I’m curious to hear!
P.S. Toby and Anton in conversation, and how many children do you hope to have?
(Top photo of my dad and his family growing up; the newborn photo by Jenny J.)