Today is Monday. The weekend is over. Heather is on her way to work, and I am sitting at the computer, as usual. I should be working, but instead I am typing up a new blog post. Why? Because I have come to a realization that I want to share with you guys:
Kids are like time machines.
Seriously. My son is four months old, but when I look at him, I can see my future. I see myself teaching him how to fly a kite, or throw a football, or ride a bike, or fish, or any number of things that a parent can teach their child. I also see my past. I look at him and I remember doing all those things with my father when I was little. I remember taking a BB gun and a bag of empty soda cans to a pond, where we would shoot the cans until they sank. I remember going to the lake and dropping a line in the water, waiting for the bobber to start bobbing. I remember the first time I realized that Dad wasn’t holding the back of the two-wheeled bike anymore, and I was riding by myself.
That’s what a baby brings to your home. He (or she) brings the promise of the future, as well as the reminders of the past. Sometimes I can see these things so clearly it is almost like I am there, holding my son’s hand as we walk into the store to buy him a Red Ryder BB Gun. Or maybe it’s me holding my father’s hand as he took me for ice cream. Either way, it’s a sort of time travel, and I love it.
But it is not limited to babies. Today I am taking my 16 year old daughter for her driving permit test, and I am reminded of myself at 15, taking the same test. I was confident and nervous at the same time. A major milestone was about to be reached in my life, and I knew I was growing up. I also see my daughter five years from now. In college, with her license and her own car, getting her education and preparing for the adult world. She will do great. I know, because she is smart and diligent, as well as creative and artistic. She has the brains and the talent to do anything she wants with her life, and I am so proud of the young woman she has become, as well as the adult she will be.
See what I mean? I look at my children, and I see the past, the present and the furure all at once. Kids are like that. They bring everything home in a way that you don’t really understand until you have one.
Kids are magic. Kids are like time machines.
I love my kids.