Today one of my grandsons turns three.
He's already reached his peak of activity. At three, he does life his way -- all out. He doesn't just watch life. He does. Sadly, if he's like most of us, he will grow up and substitute watching for doing. A three-year old finds the day too short. The adult finds the day boring and much too long. "Will this day ever end?"
Can we ever return to the enthusiasm and energy of a small child? Somewhere in me is the creativity I had when I was his age. Already at three, Reuben has discovered how wonderful it is to be a human being.
How I wish I could always share this excitement. How I wish I could return back to the wonders of childhood, back to the intensity of play, back to that disorderly and disorganized pursuit of, well, living with sheer abandonment.
I am an advocate for play as well as for work. For grown up responsibility, yes, but also for always remaining a child that disregards all appearances and laughs at the world. It won't be easy. You might end up becoming the only defender of play among your acquaintances.
Unless, of course, they have three-year old grandkids.