Their unabashed joy makes us smile. Watching my toddler squeal over the bin of snow I brought in for her to play with is unnerving because I rarely have that enthusiasm. Initially the squeal is for excitement. She sticks in a finger, giggles and runs to me for reassurance. She returns, puts both hands in, starts scooping snow into the tiny bucket. Later, after a quick waddle for gloves, she frowns at the dirty water in the bucket, tosses it out unto the kitchen floor with distaste and begins tunneling.All this joy over a bin of snow in the middle of a kitchen- a bin I provided because I hate the cold.
Toddlers are like this though, they dive in without fear, thrill at the ordinary, laugh with their mouths facing the sky. They coo wonderment at things we forgot were awesome. And then suddenly, their fear astounds us. A little push by a passing child knocks them sideways and the thrilling slide is more like a fire breathing dragon. We try to help them overcome the fear, climbing up the play structure again and again to demonstrate, with exaggerated silliness, how fun the slide can be. And we try because we know, the more they learn about the world, the less likely they will be to dive in. If only we could preserve their unrestricted enthusiasm for life….
Fear, intimidation, knowledge of risk, familiarity, they steal our ability to dive into much of anything. And because our toddler’s delight speaks reminders to our soul, we remember the unrestrained joy of childhood and small, unbridled moments remind us to dive into life. Lord, help me to abandon caution and barrel down the slide after you.
Joining other friends who delight in words today at Lisa Jo’s, today’s five minute writing prompt: dive.