From the doorway, I watched her, grinning. She was dancing, oblivious to my presence, caught up in her own little two-year-old world.
There were no worries about her outfit, her hair-do, her coordination – she was, in a word, free.
It had been a long day for us, filled with conflicts that only a two-year-old could create.
“Maia, don’t put applesauce on your head.”
“Oh, honey! Take your juice out of the toilet, please.”
“Stop, sweetheart. I just told you two minutes ago not to climb up the bookshelf.”
“Don’t step on your brother’s face, punkin’.”
“Come here, Maia.” [pause] “Come here.” [spoken with a bit more fervor] “Come here RIGHT NOW…” [while chasing naked child down the
hallway].
I felt both exhilarated and exhausted when our eyes suddenly met, drawing me back to reality. She flashed me a coy smile, slowed her
movements, but then reconsidered her embarrassment and instead invited me to join her world, “Dance, Mama, dance!”
I thought back to the days when I was “free”—when I was not obligated to sleepless nights and endless diapers and temper tantrums. My
hours had been my own then—as had my will, my schedule, my heart. I slept in a peaceful, spacious bed. I went to movie theatres and
restaurants on a regular basis. I shopped leisurely at the grocery store. In those days, I had looked on those with children with some
pity, as though they were carrying a burden. It had seemed so obvious that they did not know nearly as much freedom as I did.
My thoughts drifted, and I thought of her first day of school, her high school graduation, her wedding. I envisioned hosting sleepovers,
fretting over boys, battling adolescent peer pressure. Gradually, I realized that dancing two-year-olds, with all of their trials and
joys, do not last long in the scheme of things. While there are plenty of moments when I do not particularly feel like grinning at her
“oblivious little two-year-old self”, having children reminds me daily to enjoy life, to live, with great gusto and enthusiasm.
I’m one who needs these kind of reminders, for I am so often distracted by my own potential mistakes and skeptical misgivings. I am
reluctant to set aside my “duties” and dance along with her, or to pick up a stack of books and curl up with her to lose ourselves in a
world of imagination and wonder. I am far too focused on the play-dough getting ground into my carpet than with my daughter’s
fascination for the cookie, or noodle, or puppy that she has just created. In the days when I thought myself “free”, a part of me was
confined, numb to the wonder of the world around me. Like my daughter, I existed in my own world, yet without dancing, without awe.
These days of parenting young children may be among the most tiring that my husband and I will know. And yet, somehow, I suspect we
will never get over them; and that, in the scheme of things, there will always be a part of us that longs to peer through the doorway to
catch a glimpse of an unfettered spirit, fresh and full of life, untainted by the disappointments the days sometimes bring.
Perhaps this is why God sends them to us in such an innocent and pure form. In a way, these little souls are reflections of Jesus
himself—a pure, unfettered spirit who came to give us life, to save us from the way we thought we should go and lead us to a life of
freedom.
About The Author:
Jody Fernando, mother of Maia (2 ½) and Jehan (8 months), is an uncoordinated but enthusiastic dancer who loves to read
books to her children. She has also been published in various educational, literary, and multicultural publications.
* This article is available for your publication, for a F-E-E.
This article may NOT be reprinted without monetary compensation and written permission from the author.
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