Two preschool grandchildren once again taught me something I should already know: Children live in the moment, even on vacation.
A short trip with Jane and Emmy brought this home to me recently. We visited a favorite destination with an ambitious agenda of many things to see and do. Favorite restaurants, shops, and recreational opportunities beckoned.
But Jane and Emmy had an agenda of their own. First, there were three cats hanging around the small development where we stayed, and we needed to spend significant time following these felines, calling “Here, kitty, kitty,” and gently holding out hands to finally pet them.
We also needed to pick up countless sticks lying around the property, comparing whose stick was longest, stabbing the sticks into the soft ground, leaning on them like canes, and waving them in the air like swords.
On a jaunt downtown where shopping awaited the adults, Jane and Emmy discovered a busker playing an accordion and preferred to stay near him, dancing to the music and listening to songs he knew to be on every preschooler’s play list.
Eventually, we found our way to a favorite restaurant. When the server brought us a lovely dinner, Jane and Emmy were pretty much finished, having satisfied their appetites with crackers served as we awaited our food. Rather than sitting quietly to enjoy our meal, the adults took turns walking the girls outside, in search of more sticks, musicians and four-legged friends.
Later, the adults collapsed into chairs and reflected on the day. We’d missed several activities we hoped to enjoy as we followed the lead of those sweet children. And yet, we realized we’d had a great day. Different, but great.
Readjusting our plans for the remainder of our trip, we understood a slower pace would be appropriate. We’d all benefit from more time outside strolling through trees to pick up sticks. Noticing the flora and fauna would center us all and probably lower some blood pressures.
The treasure to be gained from this time with family was not something to carry home in a shopping bag, but memories created by matching our pace and interests to the children’s. The gift of time and willingness to play may translate into treasured memories when grownups follow their kids’ lead on the road.