Honest Toddlers and Chewing Gum

There is nothing like the honesty of a young child. If you don’t want to hear it, don’t ask. Papa’s tummy is fair game, as well as Yaya’s. I have been patted lovingly (and often a bit too enthusiastically) on my midsection so many times, it’s embarrassing. I refused a dessert, a few months ago. One of our granddaughters asked why and I told her that I’d already had enough sugar in my life and that I needed to quit eating it. So now, I’m not allowed to slip up around this child. She is adamant that “Yaya, you can’t have that.” I love it that children’s emotions and thoughts lie close to the surface. I’ve seen them nearly burst open when they recognize their sins, then turn around and deviously lie about where brother’s toy is hidden.

I’ve been clambered upon so many times, I can’t begin to count. There’s the climbing of an infant to reach my shiny new earrings, the quest of a toddler to tell me a secret, the search for a comforting lap. Nothing, however, rivals the bevy of cherubs that comforted me during the death of my Daddy. They instinctively knew I was in deep grief. There were no bursts of bad behavior or cranky tummies during that time…only sincere, innocent tumbles of hugs and tears that reached past the worst of it. Months later, they still draw pictures of Grandpa in heaven, dancing, surrounded by flowers and angels. Where us grownups keep our thoughts damped down, they freely express how they miss him, and openly wonder about what death and heaven are like. They also ponder the grave and hell, something we all should do. I think about Jesus, when a pile of kids pushed past all the grownups to get to Him. When the disciples started to fuss, He said, “Let the little children come to me and don’t hinder them.” We forget these things, important things, when we grow up.

Us late-middle-aged folks are getting tired. But when the family pulls in and the light spills all over the house with the energy and straight talk of those chickadees, our hearts lighten and hope springs eternal. My arms get filled with hopping toddlers and kindergartners. They see and note every bump and blemish, though to them it is more about the funny than the flaw. It’s about the love and the warmth, the unconditional heart that passes between us. That’s a piece of heaven on earth. Then come the requests for gum. And like every good Mimi, Grandma or Yaya, I get my purse. Love is a many splendored thing and often includes a stick of Juicy Fruit.