Treasures

You can't make a three-year old be in a hurry.

I had this thought the other day as I pleaded and scooted and threatened Lucy into the car. I said ridiculous things like, "we have to be there in ten minutes," and "we can't be late, Lucy." Neither fazed her as she bent down to look at something in the grass and then pointed to an airplane overhead. My mind was set on the appointment I could not be late for. Hers was set on whatever happened to cross her path. A button in the grass, the book she found under the back seat of our Suburban, a piece of pretzel in her car seat--all she showed me with the enthusiasm of someone who'd just discovered a lost treasure. She laughed and squirmed as I tried to twist her into her seat--like it was some funny game we were both in on. I wasn't laughing.

Later, though, I had the thought. I can't make her be in a hurry. She is not thinking of time or appointments or late fees. She doesn't wonder what will happen next week, let alone a few hours from now. She is completely present in the moment. She can notice the button because her mind isn't occupied with a million other things. Me, on the other hand--it is like my mind is at least thirty minutes ahead of my body. I am thinking of the next thing and the next thing and on and on.

I was jealous.

I started wondering how many things I miss being in such a hurry through life and a bit annoyed with myself that I was trying to hurry her along with me. Had I lost the ability to appreciate the little details or was I just choosing to ignore them? I decided it was the latter.

And so, I have decided to slow down a bit and see the day through Lucy's eyes more often. You know, "stop and smell the roses" (sorry, I couldn't help it).

Who knows what treasures I might find.