KiDs

I can’t quite decide if I like kids.

I mean, I like kids’ stuff. From Sesame Street to Mickey & Donald to SpongeBob and even Play-Doh. And when they were around, I loved Smurfs and Care Bears.

Kids. Their boundless energy tires me. Yet it is this same boundless energy that forces me to look beyond myself.

Ethan (a lovely 4-year old boy), was crying his lungs out at the lift lobby yesterday. And I sat there on the steps bewildered… “How do I stop his tears?” No amount of coaxing, trying to read Thomas-the-Engine story, patting his back, trying to carry him, holding his hands… none of it worked. He screamed all the louder. Until his mum came back from buying chicken rice across the road.

Ethan (still the lovely 4-year old boy), was dancing his heart out for me in his living room, hardly a half-hour after we managed to get away from the lift lobby. And I sat there on the sofa bewildered… “How do I share his joy?” He pulled me by the hand, he sang, he told me about Thomas-the-Engine and his friends, he showed me a drawing he made of his own hand and foot. He hugged me after every song.

I suspect kids have an innate ability to know when you are sad and need some love. And they love you without any reservations. They love you with fierce determination. They love you with an I-don’t-care-if-the-world-is-falling-apart-but-I’m-going-to-run-into-your-arms-and-hug-you-anyway kind of love.

You start to notice, the world is not just about you, that there are beings beyond you. Kids make you re-look your world.

And when I leave them and the little ones ask for “aunty”, I know they like me.

Perhaps I like kids… I think.