I love Fridays.
On this very hot Friday afternoon, the boys laid out the straw mats in the garden, opened a few broken umbrellas, threw in a few books and some toys, set up a tray with a pitcher of water and a few cups and viola! an instant open-air home is set up!
It is extremely hot. The boys are sweating. I could see drips of perspiration. But it doesn't bother them. They are entertaining themselves.
This is something that I enjoy watching and occasionally, join in... children have this incredible ability and out-of-nowhere energy to create fun activities for themselves by making something out of nothing, moving a whole bedroom to another space (or room), be immersed in their pretend-play, travelling back in time, breaking out into laughters and squealing with delight that a grown person cannot comprehend (or rather, had forgotten?).
In the process of growing up, we also leave our innocence and simplicity behind, abandoning the elements that bring us the most basic joy and happiness. What is great amusement to them is boring to us. My sons often invite me to play with them. How often have I rejected them with, "No, I'm busy"; "No, I have to cook dinner"; "No, I'm tired"?
Too often.
How often have I brightened up their faces, filled up their little hearts with, "OK! Let's go!".
I am guilty to say it.
Writing this entry is as good as a self-reflection of my flawed parenthood. Everyone of us is entitled to only one childhood. I have just made a decision, an almighty bold decision. I want my children to tell their children and grandchildren what a wonderful playmate their mother is to them!
Today, I don't want to grow up too.
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