You know those Radio Flyer wagons?
They look like sheer delight, right? I see one, and I want to be a small child again, letting somebody older, bigger and stronger haul me around in it.
Today, while driving home from work, I saw a Radio Flyer wagon from afar. In it was a delighted, curly haired toddler. Pulling it was a pissed-off looking mom.
One of these things just doesn’t belong.
The kid seemed oblivious to his mom’s foul mood. Thankfully. He was blissfully flying a toy airplane while his bedraggled mom drug him and the whimsical wagon across the busy street.
It made me ponder.
One of the things I am really looking forward to is experiencing the daily delight of my own tiny human. My little life form will be brought into the world without any baggage – no squashed dreams, no missed opportunities, no what-ifs, no “I-can’ts.”
I want to foster that world view for as long as humanly possible. Not that I think I can protect Baby Dub from any disappointment or failure.
I’m awesome, but not that awesome.
But I want her to be empowered and confident and fearless and bold and sure of herself and ready to try anything and believing the best of everybody.
What does this mean for me?
No sour puss while pulling my kid in a wagon.
Or if I’m going to have a sour puss I better keep it directed at oncoming traffic so that Baby Dub can fly her toy airplane and believe the best of the world in the blissful reality that is the bed of the Radio Flyer wagon.