So, master five, master nine and the big boy and I went for a bike ride the other day. Master five has just mastered the art of riding sans training wheels. Oh so good! Have been waiting for family bike rides for a fair while.
Riding along, we stop to give his little legs a break and he spies a santa clause, ripe for the picking, just waiting for a human’s gusty breath to free its seeds to wind. He picks it and takes a deep breath, purses his little rosebud lips and blows hard, scattering little feather top seeds everywhere.
And under his breath, he makes his wish. ‘Oh please, please give me super powers.’
I can’t help but smile, the kind of smile that shares in the wish. The kind of smile that indicates a moment becoming engraved on your heart, that takes away some of the angst you think children bring and reminds you that you love them no matter what, that they are the sum of your life.
Forget the mess, the hand prints on the wall, the litter of dirty underwear, the bits of soggy nutrigrain on the floor and the smears of spaghetti bolognaise on the cloth placemats. You can choose to make these things angst or just accept it as part of a hectic life.
Looking back, I had my own super powers. My sister and I used to jump off the six-foot fence into our neighbours yard that was always hugely overgrown with long grass. There was no thought of snakes, ticks, or any other lurking drama. Just the fun of yelling “Captain Cave Man!” and disappearing into a soft sea of green.
Awesome fun. Go find your Captain Cave Man. Rediscover your inner child and just have some plain fun.