terrypetersen

The things you do for yourself are gone when you are gone, but the things you do for others remain as your legacy. (Kalu Kalu)

“I’m a grownup,” eight-year-old Kate announces.

She means that she can take care of her almost-three-year-old cousin just fine. I don’t have to worry about being overwhelmed while I tend to other duties. She’s at the helm. But her tone is serious, and childhood is a precious time. She doesn’t know it.  It’s one of those realizations that won’t surface until long after her American Girl doll has stopped being a daily, living story—when riding in a car seat is no longer a recent memory.

I look at her freckled face and large eyes, her hair disheveled from a hot day in third grade. “No, sweetheart. You aren’t grown up yet.”

“Yes, I am.” She sounds confident rather than insulted.

“You aren’t an adult yet, but you can do a great job of helping. I know I can count on you.”

How do you explain childhood to a child? It’s a primordial experience. Actually, I’m not sure words are sufficient. Who does he or she see? A nuisance? The person responsible for the noise level in the house? The one blamed when there are size-three muddy footprints on the rug? Or a unique individual with limitless possibilities? Little people don’t grow into somebody; they have always been someone. Arriving at wisdom, however, takes a lifetime. Maybe longer.

“Let’s make plans for Ella’s birthday party?” I ask.

She thinks it is a wonderful idea. Simple? Yes. I will forget the details of this day by next week. Probably sooner. But pseudo-grownup Kate knows that her choices count, too. Besides, Grandma wants to spend time with her. I’m hoping it makes a difference in her future. It already makes a difference in my “now.”

pic from Positive Words to Love By